He Rides

He rides through a halo

shoulders burdened with wings
the growl beneath his bed made innocent
clipping his paperdoll clouds with a smile
always searching for that last disappointment

in the rose-water footsteps below.

Humans can only be human,
but occasionally
a glimpse can be caught of the divinity
in all
a moment in each
that might linger
over the scent of jasmine,
or squint into the marvel of sunrise
as fleeting reminders

of another life lived somewhere.

 perfection;
is not a sustainable attainment
it can be captured only in seconds
then back to our world that we know
we go
just as a human and as fallible

as before.

the struggle is real

and for that endless effort

I pray that I may be unique

on his spectrum scale

so he will love me 

all the more.

Author's Note