The years turned into damp Mossy bricks Stacked in the humus of a dark corner Too recent to be light Too ancient to be dispensed No bricklayer hands ever near.
I am too small Too weak, too thin, too white Too tall, too smooth, too angular Too effeminate, too self-concerned, too defensive Too loud, too smart, too bald, Too soft, too hard, too plastic.
These slow healing wounds These beautiful scars Talismen of the Fear Jeweled remnants suturing Experiences. Wisdom. Gratitude. Epiphytic reminders of Compromise Become new design elements of a beautiful landscape Where acceptance is Embraced and Transmogrified.
And in this place The dry husk-formed shell Relents under claw-like attack Releasing the ripe sweet nectar Whose wait was alchemic Whose time has come This succulent fruit Will deliver the LifeForce which brings End To Debauchery of Hope.
And so… You are my Experiment. Will I be able to stand ***** On this platform rising from shadow Will I look you in the eye And when I do Will you see my true Heart Resting in the Lotus of my Hands. Rising. Aloft. And Beaming.