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Cruel fate

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  • Cruel fate

    Cruel fate, I simply wanted to be older, and the rolling hills wanted what? Did anything that was wheeling like the wind, or the waves, actually get anything from me;-- with all my gathered wanting in momentum, walked, does the toy of plastic still play the same music?
    I want to stop, and hear a voice, and shout down the sky, and become bigger than I was. Tie my shoes with different laces, get lost in a million hiding places, rhyme the softest music into candle-lit night. I am breathing easier anyway, today. I wanted to stop something, and watch it stalled, and become like it, myself, while knowing both to change. I and you. And what does it matter, we're still afraid of pain, of falling, of going too deep; like a crusted wound, where the scabs reveal the reflections of swords. I can't bend light around me into something which has to stay; I have to hoop it outwards in secluded waves. Like water that's weak and won't carry the nutrient, like lips that kiss desert folds, and snakes that drain my memory's hold ... soup of desire, spoon of flesh, let me throw this away until I'm finally finished. Stuck on strings resolved to shadow-stars, made to hang on the wicker chair, the bamboo shoots and the sound of water, carrying. Discordance, feeble metronome, hassle of my soul, I just want to see what I am: And there is no gate through the garden that separates anything from the rest of it. Each flower is beyond, and I can't step in their shadows long enough before I'm all of them. Lined up, in beds, standing still for the sun that's turned red; flashing, wild, moving, painful. The eye gathers its shuttered vision, the body locked-down in deciding. A rhythm, movement, and the world falling like confetti, math and science head to head, with poetry blowing kisses through the windows, through the curtains, into the mansions lit with oceans, into the pages lit by endless eyes reading. Lightning, broken, breaking, skies torn, rending passion, multiform, a feeling after the storm. Watch. It's going somewhere else now. We don't bother tracking it. The tiny green blip fades from consciousness, as I'm pulled back. Now I have somewhere to go, as well. And this path I follow brings me home. Now I don't have to needlessly struggle, knowing I am Flame and Void and Plenum. Release, this harbored strength a forge, a glint, a speck, a rivet. Can't let go of it-- endless religion-- I have to watch them turning, protean, into what I could never become. And the same, vice versa. I risk not making it through. Where does that leave you.

  • #2
    absolute inspiration AO