from the thorns

The alchemy of my heart burns so hot and bright it is difficult to reach into the crucible and draw out the molten glass words that usually flow slow but of their own accord.

This one arrived in the palm of my hand when I contemplated my beloved, just moments ago. The glow is still white-hot and plastic.

from the thorns

How curious and furious
this revelation in revelled elation.
Beauty born, like diamonds and jet,
in the heart of fires that supposedly
would consume all to admire; a higher
purpose, a proposition juxtaposed
to make, from the thorns, a rose.
I marvel at this and kiss the wind
where we have twinned from the solitude,
with gratitude and grace as I face
a future with a heart heavy only with hope.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

Expect, after review and approval from my brilliant and brisant love, a major shift in my presence on the web.

Expect surprises.