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Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

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Mastered Pieces

November 26, 2019 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

Mastered pieces

Making up a masterpiece..

speaking of,

That hand

her hand

and its surface

that texture

a smoothness coupling a purposeful yet vague roughness

not from labor

but produced from hairs emerging upon her surface

encapsulating her radiant warmth

protecting it from the elements

an element of her own

certainly it must have been crafted within the cosmos that could only hope to marvel at a heaven a heaven

that has a mind and eye for intrinsic value with synchronizing detail

overflowing with designs even more intricate than that of the universe

only a heaven, ripe with divine orchestration could compose such an architecturing of angelic skin

where was I when I first laid eyes upon its color

a mix of colours and the contours!

where did I go, the moment…that moment…thee moment

I placed my own hand atop hers

that fragrance took me to a different plane

it lit a thirst and a wonder like a fiery furnace so deep within and beyond my sense of what’s real

that I soon became high from inhaling its essence smell

became virtue

aura, her aura, became tattoo

ambiance, her ambiance, became a light, however distant or close, but near enough to see a way throughout darkness

encompassing with it a belief in possibility

what did I experience, ecstasy?

drifting into a world of

fantasy

tantalization

serendipity

enchantment

myth and urban legend would envy her story

because her lore

held with it, an addictive romantic fiction

all from her touch

the touching

the feeling

the capturing of her hand

its not that romance is dead

or that it is unreal

but that it is so real and yet it is rarely captured enough to be revered as something to be believed in

so after life long soughts, can only harbor assumptions of it being fantasy all the while its mystery

trailblazes journeys

seeking from it,

what lay unknown yet dreamed about

I can never forget its texture,

the grace of her feel and heat

I never washed her scent from me

I slept as her smell comforted me

breathing in deeply, reinvigorated with every chest inflation

inhaling her essence

made her too real to not dream about

and what I saw, what comforted me and blotted out the darkness of my environment was her hand for there was nothing more I needed to see

because the whole isn’t necessary in understanding the parts

the parts have their own individual attributes perfuming their own identities that only enhance the whole

the parts blaze all on their own

as proof to ‘bits’ of perfection

her hand, a mastered piece

scribing the story of a masterpiece only written in the stars

I’ve laid my eyes upon, listened to, inhaled and even felt the wonder of that story

and the only mystery I have left to my senses, is consuming the taste of her literary better the experience or better the mystery?

I’ll ponder that question for a lifetime

maybe its the unknowing that compliments intrigue

and the knowing that compliments jade

some things you just have to try

wonder versus experience

two concepts within a master’s mind a master tries to mastermind while appraising a mastered piece of a masterpiece

her hand

Filed Under: Love, Mercy, Spirit

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Prose of a Con

Prose of a Con is a collection of Russell Wardlow’s prose and poetry written entirely behind bars. Through writings on family, spirituality, freedom, love, justice, redemption, and vulnerability, Russell seeks to show the humanity and hope of individuals like himself who are incarcerated.

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