Divine Knowledge

The slightest chill in the air

Less than a handful of stars,

barely visible in the sky.

The smell of marker and dollar store crafts

and friendship and languages i don’t speak

and taking on more than i can carry.

Running up against the deadline

because i don’t want to do well, i want to do perfect

and it is perfect, according to my vision.

The rush of doing my best,

of doing nothing but looking at the stars

and the trees and leaves and acorns

and thinking about my family,

both the one i was given and that one that i took:

clawed out of society’s grubby little hands, picking

them up and cradling them

in the warmth i want to be seen as having.

Looking at the vibrant dull colors

and the feeling of it being close to my season. The

season of orange trees and the Aos Sí,

Of fairies and wonder and memories and joy.

And i’m hit with a theognostic revelation:

The world is beautiful.

Despite the pain the sorrow and heartbreak. Despite

the violence the terror and betrayal.

It’s beautiful.

It’s so damn beautiful i want to scream.

I want to find every pessimist

and ladle a part of my soul into them.

So they can see what i see.

Love the world how i do.

And see that they too are beautiful.