They are crawling in violet sands of silence. Hours jet by like nothing. They are stinging you all over. Powerful burning, moon spackled in every grain. An inner Sun dawns, hits  water, nobody knows. Or do they?

I once fed my hostility into the jaws of intensity in hopes to be rid of it.

Now. It is done. Paper swallowed
pain. Painted bars the mind brushes to trick you into prison. I learned to let go.

Mother tells you it's illegal to cry. Keep it locked up for decades, a child who discovers Houdini's secret window.

He crawls out. Night and day embrace. Rainfall of stars.

Peace at last.

Now they are stinging in violet sands of silence.

Long letters swirling beyond your reach but dazzling the water's edge close enough to jolt the aching valve to a pipeline your spirit raced through.

They come.

Scorpions of powerful, needle fire stings.

The pressure to release them builds like a secret ocean as you sprawl out on violet sand wondering how to express the Eternal diamonds following you in the waters of your
inner world.

Long letters swirling from beyond.
Only in deep calm can I catch them.

Most times I am frantic clawing at night's window, diamonds falling out from my eyes replacing the words I need to trace them.

They are not mine.
They are everybody's natural heritage.

Majestic stars of eternal love
  streaking into our secret ocean.

We just have to open the door
to the private shore and give it surrendering permission to love us.