He Is What You Are

I sing the body conscious,
(I plead with its flaws;
pull up my drawers)

I step out of my skin,
drink the ocean we are drowning in,
drink only that
I may not drown,
as all is drunk,
and I am drunk,
on my every breath.

Jesus gives me
the secret, special handshake.
He winks, twists my hand,
and we both laugh,
laugh, ascending nigh to Antares
and points beyond,
hearts bursting with
pain of breaking,
ecstasy of aching for the surrounding Ocean,
rushing in,
Love,
completing the broken.

But,
how could this ecstasy
of falling into place
be free?

God is not what you think;
He is what you are