I have loved deeply

Of the sort

Movies are made of

And love has returned unto me

My humanity

Though not before first demanding

Of me

Soul baring honesty

And faithful surrendering

Of all pretensions of biographies

Then and only then

On my knees

Through sheets of tears

Grace

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Who is the me

Rattling against the triteness

Of borrowed words and identities

Yearning to be formed

With words true and sure

How many words 

Need to be penned into thrash

Peeled and delayered

Such that me me me

May emerge

What is in the who

Waiting to unfold and form

Gifting the fabric of eternity

With a luminosity

That it only can gift

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