THE LIONS DEN

(LOVE FROM THE LOWEST DEPTHS OF A MAN'S BEING) DEDICATED TO THE PERSON READING THIS IN 4062 THE MUSIC...
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And I try to rip you from my atmospheres... Try to describe all the things you do to me, have done for me and will do for me.
All the things that we have been through in ancient times... In the despair of the ghetto.
We when there was only love to shield us in strange lands.
My eyes water in memories of your pain.
Vision fuzzy with images of our uncertain futures.
My brains strains to paint an image of you that a reader can hold... The curves, folds and stretch marks that I find so fascinating.
The timber of your voice.
If I could I would set this paper and the screen afire with your form. Your nature.
Butterflies flutter in a man's stomach as he reaches into his lowest depths and extracts his love for you and holds it up to the sky.
It shining magnificently.
It taking off and becoming the fireworks called the cosmos.
Where we... You and I were born in the explosion of a sun.
My creation incomplete without you.
You having become the well that I drink at when my thirst threatens to consume me.
Leave me a dried out husk pushed about by the breeze.
Whisked away by the savage winds of this life.
My seed having been natured in the soil of your earth.
In you I have grown roots.
Become a forest.
I owe so much to you.
I try to describe it so that a person in 4062 reading these words will feel that in the utter depths of their very core...
That they will know of you.

JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY