Wednesday, 15 April 2015

and then a voice you've never heard. familiar. calling you back

I press myself against the glass,
relish the sensation of cold on my skin.

below lights and colour splash
and shimmer on rain soaked pavements.

tonight i'll sleep with the window open.
welcome the night sounds
penetrating my dreams until morning.

one sweet dream
and then baptism by light
through that same window I held my body against
the night before.

for the way in, for the en-trance.
through the tangle of sheets and a body
heavy with the weight of want i'm trying to shift.

always burning.
our selves,
our fingers,
our blessed sacred hearts protected
by the golden swords at our breast.

you are more than the sum of your parts,
but what can I do
but unpick you piece by piece.
pluck your petals one at a time,
admire then press them safe between pages
until i'm left holding nothing
but the stem,
which is the route
between source and beauty.
the point
where we shed our skin and reveal ourselves.

a different kind of holy.

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