the Idea of God

I crave the depths of my own soul.

I know I’m getting pretty old.

But even in my younger days,

I felt the weirding, deeper ways.

This flesh divine in view tastes sweet,

but still the world feels incomplete.

I yearn for curls and turns of love

far below and high above.

The tides of being buffer me

suffering my destiny.

I ride the tip along the edge

of my own sacred, inner pledge.

Perhaps I’m thinking far too small

to truly bear the beck and call

of the spirits held within

all the selves that I have been.

I know that all it really takes,

whether dreaming or awake,

is for me to actually give the nod

as best I can to the idea of God.