Jan 2019
and the pain says, “i have come for you.”
and in your heart you know it’s true // how could you possibly ever recover from this? and you say, “you are too blinding// i don’t want to look.”
but you can // stare lady death straight in the eyes and take away her power.
“you cannot hurt me // i am lighter than air.” but you see // she can (because you’re dying, my friend) but instead she will kiss you instead of stab you // because death takes mercy not on the strong but the intellectual // and if you understand you are free.
your soul is a wall of pain // folding in on itself // your perfectly numbered reality slipping away.
and death says, “i have mercy and i have fire.” you pick fire, for the flames in your chest and the flames in your head // turning your heart to ashes.
your soul is a wall of thorns. the pain says “what can i do for you?” and all you want it to do is take you, take you instead. but you do not say that // because death has no power and your hands are your own.
you say “nothing. this is a dream from which i know i will wake.” // your heart is a wall of storm clouds, and the thunder offers to lend you its strength. instead, you lend your shoulders // and your hands.
life shivers // melts // moves on (and it continues without us.) and the pain says “i have come for you.” in the heart wherim a strangers words lurk // a conquered promise of more time lies // not of comfort but hope (and you learn to understand the aching of your body.)
stars are lost to deep space, and caught in the obliviousness of it continues to fade. and in one thousand years she will walk the place where mother nature has taken back your bones // and you will understand.
but we will never understand death // because within each lifetime, each year, each day, each breath granted we are taunting her // asking for her to come shrink our infinites to nothing.
and it is this affliction that shows us nothing is born of soil and space // that the leisure of thought cannot conquer her.
when you die // you escape this laybrinth of suffering (which is the reason for death, the kindest angel of them all)
and you look to this all encompassing pain // and say “yes. let us embrace as equals.”
and in your heart you know it’s true // how could you possibly ever recover from this? and you say, “you are too blinding// i don’t want to look.”
but you can // stare lady death straight in the eyes and take away her power.
“you cannot hurt me // i am lighter than air.” but you see // she can (because you’re dying, my friend) but instead she will kiss you instead of stab you // because death takes mercy not on the strong but the intellectual // and if you understand you are free.
your soul is a wall of pain // folding in on itself // your perfectly numbered reality slipping away.
and death says, “i have mercy and i have fire.” you pick fire, for the flames in your chest and the flames in your head // turning your heart to ashes.
your soul is a wall of thorns. the pain says “what can i do for you?” and all you want it to do is take you, take you instead. but you do not say that // because death has no power and your hands are your own.
you say “nothing. this is a dream from which i know i will wake.” // your heart is a wall of storm clouds, and the thunder offers to lend you its strength. instead, you lend your shoulders // and your hands.
life shivers // melts // moves on (and it continues without us.) and the pain says “i have come for you.” in the heart wherim a strangers words lurk // a conquered promise of more time lies // not of comfort but hope (and you learn to understand the aching of your body.)
stars are lost to deep space, and caught in the obliviousness of it continues to fade. and in one thousand years she will walk the place where mother nature has taken back your bones // and you will understand.
but we will never understand death // because within each lifetime, each year, each day, each breath granted we are taunting her // asking for her to come shrink our infinites to nothing.
and it is this affliction that shows us nothing is born of soil and space // that the leisure of thought cannot conquer her.
when you die // you escape this laybrinth of suffering (which is the reason for death, the kindest angel of them all)
and you look to this all encompassing pain // and say “yes. let us embrace as equals.”
for the lady in the stars
