Affirmation
pour me out—liquid
gold, unshaped
and raw—
and watch
the hands of Purpose,
mold my hot ass
into what I’m suppose
to be—Christ
hand beckoning
on a sea of mirror,
rocking me
like the center of a beat
in a quiet storm
caught up in the rapture
of what I’ve become:
a pearl, a totality, a dangling
thread through a cosmos