can we be real-real for a moment?                            

Can we admit to one another . . .

. . . soul to soul . . .                   . . . spirit to spirit . . .                        . . . adult to adult . . .

           that it’s a bit humbling really . . .

to have to sit above our own biological processes . . . . . . right over our own stink . . .

         . . . even ever so briefly for some and way too long for others, it would seem . . .
. . . and all of the rest of us in between . . .

—it’s almost humiliating—

insulting to my finer sensibilities,
to my educational and occupational accomplishments,
to my creative and conceptual higher understandings

to be sitting thusly

                                    aromatically curious

                                                                           aesthetically offended

I’ve come to accept that my biology

produces smelling salts for my soaring spirits,

for my runaway brain’s imagining greatnesses . . .

I am reminded that the purpose of my humanity is not to deny it or to outgrow it, 

but to grow spiritually into it. 

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    Disclaimer: Poetic license is at work both here and in my books. Any errors or anomalies are through no fault of my editor. These were left deliberately at my expressed intention to clearly indicate that goodness does not require perfection.

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