ʘ ʘ

It is not a predatory glare
If I stare too long
If I peer beyond the orbs
you look out from
You see I wish to sea
this depth that is you
Knowing you are not this form
That sputters polite niceties
or spills venom echoed
from some second hand villain
you’ve read somewhere
from a book
from a song
from a movie
from these lands that contrived
your form, clay, mulch of evolution,
a scab, cast off skin,
wound of a pulsing stone.
This is NOT you,
just as these words are myself
more than this form shall ever contain me.
More than a giant pebble in a vast universe
cease to be itself without fire:
the sun.
More than a slim stalk of colors,
is not the fragrance:
a flower.
More than a flap of wings,
is not the flight:
a bird.