Sunday, 27 March 2016
fallen to the floor the mandalas you rocked and spun on your hips. now you hold still and undone in the centre listening to more than moving mouths spilling more or less than what they want to say. a kindness complicated by the anonymous shifts and overlaps of tangled heartstrings and the interlocking rings of the coronas of our lives expanding. always the business of feeding the fire, burning and rising, begging the dark to come because there are things that do not sleep, but slip into the cracks to break loose and shatter the refuge found in disguise that only turns you into an echo of yourself like a lingering presence you can't quite touch. a summons to revel in your own electric storms crashing white...
Posted by cloudgathererholdmedown