Slaughter Of Epictetus Poem by Tsani Jones

How can you tell me of God?
With nothing more
Than a kiss
I can harness the earth as my own
And hold it in my hand...

Spin the sun and the moon
Into dizzying revolution
Count stars like grains of sand
And burn the sin away
Into a single furnace within my breast.

How can you tell me of heaven?
I have already been.
That is where my soul
Meets her eyes
And truth folds flat,

Where fingers awake
A cold spirit
Numb from your own catastrophe
Yet brought back to life.

What can you say of Hell?
It is the burning
For the one when I can't touch her,
The one when I can't feel her breath,
When love's ember becomes quiet.

So what of this Salvation?
To be separate is to burn,
In unity, bliss
To transition, melancholy.

You are nothing of this speech,
In fact, it is unknown to you.

To brush her hair back is salvation,
A touch of her lips, heaven.
Love that burns my soul as the eyes of God,
And to say goodbye for only a moment, Hell.