go deep with me.
i drown in shallow waters.
the spliced and perfunctory, the stripped
leave me wanting.
deeper and deeper still. show me
hold me, push me, obliterate me
in the name of ecstasy. the divine.
i don’t care what who why when
so long as the now forever start stop prolong being
so long as it
matters imprints awakens
softens allows trusts
fuels and ignites
there is longing, and then there is
And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on this earth.
the two are so close. not finite, not separate. but close.
destruction and creation. death and birth. ending and beginning.
ablation works by scarring or destroying tissue in your heart
that triggers an abnormal heart rhythm.
i imagine a sickle
tearing through vessels and forcing
these are the things i will think of today:
liberation. truth. love.
white robes, wild horses
and an open field
doorways have become too confined.
welcome to the final chapter.
But it is in the consciousness of life which becomes the breath of life and gives life to a body. The breath of life is the consciousness of life, and the consciousness of life is the breath of life.
~from the Kaushitaki Upanishad, The Upanishads
oh how we split, splinter, fracture and fall. how we divide to conquer.
the dual, the contrasting, the one but not the other.
dark and light, in and out. majority rule.
i suppose we must separate sometimes, to survive. to explain and convince and love without hating. to hold without releasing.
or how would we possibly make sense of the confusion between us?
we have had to break ourselves in half because if we didn’t, how could the desire and the anger,
how could the fear and the trust,
reside in the same body?
and so we sleep and breathe and live our lives with the split down the middle,
we become fragments and shards,
the edges are just so sharp
and we are wading through a minefield
when they hear
this is how
~Nayyirah Waheed, from Salt
i sift through the assigned values. a life well spent. worth while. lived hard and run free. time off and time on. hard won and easy coming.
i know how to spit and cuss, answer and call, bend down and lift up, gaze and unravel.
i know dirt and sand and a few things from books and classrooms, churches and temples. i know love and commitment. i know the tastes of pomegranate and ginger.
i know the tax and utility of the machinery, of the musts and the unyielding.
i know concession and forgiving, gluttony and parch, empathy and emptiness.
and yet there is so much i have forgotten. lapses in time and doing, where, when, how.
making a list seems bothersome when there is a universe of stars and a sternum to pry up.
solitude, submersion and synapses are my current obsessions.
i am curious whether something will actually be born of this culmination of being. some thing prolific that you can someday hold in your hand. a book, a memory, a purpose that is radiantly clear.
it is drifting father away, though, less frantic and more habit, the wonder of such things. so much more, i am taken by the brazen idea of making fire, of putting my whole self in the flames,
and being consumed by light.