Resenting things to which you would devote your life and death
That, perhaps,
The reason for the resentment.
Resenting things to which you would devote your life and death
That, perhaps,
The reason for the resentment.
Walking the world with me while I walked it alone
In stride
Staying in the periphery when my tunnel vision kept me blind
Respecting all the boundaries but toeing, still,
The line
Keeping silent in the vacuum, acts-in-service – practiced mime
Stars are stars
always
steady,
twinkling, in the sky
Sweet serendipity, sweet universe, allowing ours
collide.
It does not softly rain through the snow
It melts, it hardens
The layers beyond are brittle
Cracked with the slightest pressure
Flowered with fluff
Relying on roots that do not pierce
That which does not pierce cannot persevere
It does not softly rain through the snow
It cures, it mixes
the mulch and concrete, serving us
Dirt from the deep
Footsteps wound beneath
Donning unique rivulets to the crevices
Through which the mulch mix
Seeps
It does not softly rain through the snow
It alters,
Waters down many moons, in flow.
Focus on your breathing or some shit
And let the fact that the scab is now a scar convince you that you are healing
(though, not quick)
The pangs will not always echo as long or flow as deep
The earth quaking in your chest cavity when you weep
will eventually not exhaust you
And the dark you so strongly want to deplete will recede
through the fault lines of your lips
Memories seeping towards release
Whispers in the mist –
Breathe, breathe, breathe
Try to visualize how big the universe is- can you see it?
Do you have the scope?
And that moment when you realize that the task you have just been set exceeds the bounds of your imagination- that submission to the impossibility of the Sisyphean?
Do you feel it? Have you manned the slope?
It is in that moment that you might understand it’s totality. And then, like me, all that will remain is the surrender of control to its unconditional being.
Have you learned it? Have you mined it’s hope?
I opened my arms as wide as they could go
Then imagined that I was throwing them even wider –
Wider than they could throw
I set about to gather the galaxy in their midst
But first I had to see the galaxy’s limits,
wrap my hands around it’s borders, and squeeze
them into the labyrinth of my ribs
I breathed out to remove the excess that would impede this feat;
Lungs and air excessive in the rift
that I had created to hold the universe within
And I should have understood at the end the same thing
I wish I had known at the beginning-
That I could not see this galaxy’s limits.
So I stretched and stretched
and hoped to stumble upon its size within my mind
so I could then follow the map to its sides
When I realized I did not even know
the borders of my own mind
I could not touch the edges of my imagination. Yet beyond that lay the universe, HER own initiation, so I froze as it came to me that arms out wide, they lay short of reconciliation –
Are you living it? Is this ship afloat?
Try again to visualize how big the universe is; try to understand that this cannot be achieved.
The impossible task was comprehending its very magnitude, understanding that I could not hope to reach it’s resolve; the moment when I finally let go. This is the only moment you need to understand why I closed my arms and accepted the vastness of the universe in loving you.
You shouldn’t block it; you should feel it. It should hurt.
For if it hurts, it heals…
All that you need
is ripe
here
ripe now
for the being.
If you would but
open wide and let your mouth say
I
so your indomitable
will
can lead you to infinity.
Do you know what a tough road it is?
Life,
I mean.
One truth is none of us do. In the manner that looking across a vast expanse cannot immediately tell us if the terrain will take a lot from us, or a little.
Sometimes, we grow by an oasis.
Sometimes, we are lost in a sea of sand.
The vehicles we all move through dictating
if we will crumble or stand strong.
We cannot know how tough this is.
Life,
I mean.
Not, surely, till we get to the end of the road.
What a warrior you are, Adventurer, facing the unknown.
What is the sound of resolve?
A crackling
Fanned flames of frivolous hopes framing the doubt dressed in darkness?
The firewood of punctuated ululations severing ties that leave
you on your feet but do not feed you on your toes.
A scraping
Rubber licking asphalt one grain of hard-fought grey after the other?
Barren boots warring against the smattering of wet skin on
fiery hard packed ground
Toppling time and again because you knock yourself down as often as the world does.
Like nothing
Silence so absolute with a world not watching
Breath held, waiting interminably for the other shoe to drop
When you know you never intend to let go of the laces
you cling to; because you are in control.
Bet it looks like a shaky breath-
Arms crossing, folding into one’s chest
Mouth agape, teeth bared, eyes focused
Above the “insurmountable best”
And it feels like a reckoning
Like fear and faith, or fear alone
or an emptiness – a will wilted, but alive
Whispering secrets of your unmalleable core;
Bone to unshakeable bone.