Her eyes are on Greyrock, not invested in what I believe, not interested in my virginity. She likes the cool end of the clear, cold water, and when she breathes, she sees, from all the lonely, barren trees around me. Her thoughts whisper come bathe with me. She says, “I am your G_D, these are the better of precious things”.
The white light fades upon Greyrock, the ending of my hopeless faith, of what Tori Amos sung, she said it was her reprieve. The human skin that we trap ourselves in, when we go to war. That we determine is our sex, the life skills of our sum. The stuff we think we are built for. Adonai, Adonai, better I see you, your spirit, fastened brief across the July Colorado sky. You, you, dancing before me, spirit elongated within, without. An ever daring letter, (Ruach) embedded, character, for you I think I’ve sought. That in its self is my precious thing. So better than flesh, a precious thing.
My sweet Danny, Danny, it’s not a part of your virginity. Do you feel me, understand me, want to bathe with me, on Greyrock, here on Greyrock? It becomes for us a precious thing, to know by water and breeze.
The river, below, the great, great plains, the bosom, that part of life, that is real, that constructs your pain. That illusion, that most would call the bed where you have lain. Here on Greyrock, maybe you are fragile, maybe you are strong, may be, just may be it is your precious thing.
The meaning of the day up on Greyrock, the sum of the passion, I sometimes seek. The betterment of all I ever had to offer, was the knowledge life does not end with loss of virginity. And while this world may be spinning in its classless form of struggle, for what means skin or substance, or a better form of me. Greyrock is a lesson of the precious point of living, for it taught me that breath, is blessing G_D while on your back. Taking all you have lost, bowing let it all be cost, and taking your precious things. Those blessings inside your skin that rage. Building them higher. Like Greyrock sits, there higher. Knowing you are filled with precious things. Precious things.
Her eyes are on Greyrock, not invested in what I believe, not interested in my virginity. She likes the cool end of the clear, cold water, and when she breathes, she sees, from all the lonely, barren trees around me. Her thoughts whisper come bathe with me. She says, “I am your G_D, these are the better of precious things”. – 07.06.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל
This is heavy stuff Daniel. I loved every woord. ❤
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Thank you Raquel. I’m probably heavier than I need to be. 😉
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You put the right kind of weight on this one. Silly. 🙂
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Another wonderful read Daniel. You always write with such emotion. I absolutely adored this.
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Thank you Heather. Happy you liked it.
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Your always welcome. 🙂
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The spirit more precious than skin. Wonerful as always, sweet Daniel.
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Thank you Ruby.
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Wonderfully written! I am so amazed by your writeing.
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❤ this!
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Thank you Donna.
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Your writing simply amazes me. Precious Things will go down as one of my favorites.
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That makes my day Charlie. Thank you.
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I am still going over it.
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❤️
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Thank you Jenny. 🙂
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You are welcome Daniel.
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Beautiful, beautiful words Daniel. Greyrock is outstanding! 🙂
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Thank you Jane.
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I really enjoyed this. My favorite lines: “The human skin that we trap ourselves in, when we go to war. That we determine is our sex, the life skills of our sum.” Well done as always.
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Thanks Karen. I love it when lines are pointed out that mean something to someone.
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Another beautiful, well thought out piece from you Daniel.
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Thanks so much Tabitha.
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I truly enjoyed this. Still reflecting on it, much like the beautiful picture, and the water it contains. I do believe I see an image. 😉
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You got the reflection Wang. I’M psyched. 🙂
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Your use of imagery when you write is astounding. This was beautiful.
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Thank you Laura.
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I love Tori Amos, and your words were so appropriate, to go with her music, contrasting as it were.
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I loved the song too. Thanks for commenting.
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This is lovely. ❤
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Thank you.
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This is a read where heart speaks the loudest.
Loved it Daniel!
Dajena 🙂
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Thank you Dajena. So happy you liked it.
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Your words… works… prose, poems, pieces…. and peace are precious things. Thank you!
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Thank you my friend. when you say pieces I know you know me well. 🙂
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The end is the beginning, and that is a precious thing. Whether on your remembered Greyrock, or on my remembered ….. rock.
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Very true my friend. Thank you.
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