I meditate on the splendor of my existence, the magnificence
that I exist at all, and without warning I might hear loves tender
call. Without lamentation, I enjoy the sensation. Outward beauty
is a word that has no importance, beauty is naught to me, look
deeper the real me is what you will see. The stream of my sensation
is clear, I am content, for the moment, let me be, I believe that love
resides here. Yet love is a word that has no meaning, it means nothing
to me. I cannot be persuaded, I am tranquil, see the flesh of my being,
take it, sate yourself, and leave my thoughts to me.
2013©annjohnsonmurphree
ann johnson-murphree 
I think I must have a clandestine self and would like to find him but he seems to stay well hidden clothed in secrets.
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Carl, I loved your comment…we all have one but we must be willing to let it surface and breathe. Thank you for such a great comment. Ann
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Reblogged this on OUR POETRY CORNER.
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Serenity!
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