like
a gust of wind in Autumn
I
am in my shell sanctuary
linking
the clouds
to
the cried lightning
I’ve
drawn to the trees
the
kept whispers of knees
telling
me things
that
I rarely tell myself
things
about nothing
to
pray for
things
that make no sense
things I want
more than
things
that do make sense
it’s
all madness they say
you
are your own
prime
number algorithm
it’s
all written
in the language
of slow burning plastic
dripping
the hollows sounds
of
what once was
or
might have been
into
the fast boiled oxygen
and
the fast turning back
the
fast dives into spinning
the
shit that’s hard to swallow
where
winning anything
is
still a game and
is
still beyond gravity’s lament
for
the cages I’ve constructed
in
my padded room
I
watch the spider
and
blow pot smoke
while
it is building its web
it
seems odd angled
and
disjointed like me looping
between
taut, taught
manic
and serene
will
I ever trust
any
thought I have
I
am not sure how my story ends
but
I am driven toward fire
toward
running
toward
falling down hills
toward
the edges of the abyss
I
am driven to steal light
I
am driven to find
where
laughter seals tight
the
gates at the mouth of Dawn
I
am every place no one enters
I
am the cemetery
I
am the stones
I
am why you leave
some
people alone
marking
time like graves
like
pieces of rain
spit
from a crow’s eye
on
the divide
where
god is a myth
reverence
for an afterlife
gets
the white glove
and
white wing treatment
I
can’t stand my own mind
let
alone the mindlessness
of
waiting to die
I
am easily agitated
at
modern humanity
I
am angry
I
am not human
I
am lust personified
I
am someone else’s petulance
I
am why erosion is pure
I
am only here
to
burn things down
I
can only sell you
my
empty shell
my
memory of oceans
and
the tides
where
my goodness
has
gone fishing
wishing
old pennies
into
empty wells again
EJR
©
The oh so familiar despair arising when we discover the mirror of our mind and soul is totally obscured by dark painful thoughts and emotions which in the end, must be seen for what they really are: an urgent alarm call to look within; to quietly observe, to honestly recognize, fully accept, totally forgive... And love... Only then, with time, continued practice and compassion toward our self, can that mirror clear up and offer a bright, uncluttered window into reality...
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