Trivial things became monstrosities,

and Malice gave birth to gods.

Before I had a chance, my world imploded–a closed off area:

I became helpless and stuck with woolen jealousies.

I only wanted silken bonds–rich, invincible and wanted.

It’s Bethlehem became a legend, like El Dorado:

Whatever it was, it lingered,

purring, full with sustenance with our catch while we starve.

With my limbs longer, and heart bigger,

the hunting  stopped.

I exorcised the false king in its languor;

And the void needed another, like a soul for a soul.

And love, and hope fluttered in, finding home,

like me.

And things grew quiet but safe and full.

We’re moving on.