Our mentalities are separate,
cautious.
We are of simple minds,
of hardened hearts,
not yet ready to believe in each other—
in ourselves.
And above, a black midnight
Reflected brilliantly upon the water;
a pool of ink.
The stars, dusted across the darkness.
We lunge, we dive, into
blackened pools of adrenaline and
nighttime.
The transformation hits us
like a wrecking ball;
like a wrecking ball,
numbness flows into us,
creeps unto us
as we stand, together,
the ink falling
from our shoulders
and skins;
from our judgments.
Our reflections are changed,
perhaps irrevocably.
And then the heat;
the heat.
A warm caress on our quivering skin,
a welcome silence to our chattering mouths,
now hushed, tired.
The taste of iodine, of laughter,
coats our dry, sticky lips as we
mute.
Our senses, now acute.
The sizzle and snap of
hot steam, cold breaths.
We taste, smell and now—
feel the sage, warming us.
And suddenly, out of the darkness,
I can imagine.
As if in a sunlit afternoon,
hot and humid.
Birds wings flash above brightly;
they flutter lightly, carefully extended,
beneath a robin’s-egg blue.
In the dark without a moon,
as our impurities and vanity
melt and collect at our dirt-covered fingertips,
we all extend our wings.
We all extend our wings and fly.
Trust the air. Feel the sky.
We are connected,
as if on a single wind.
Infinitely strong, yet perhaps
unseen.
Our skins are softened as we leave,
the breath of a story
still on our ears.
We breathe deeply a perfume-less air.
We flash our wings, now extended fully
without reserve
For all to see.
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 11:32 PM UTC
Our mentalities are separate,
cautious.
We are of simple minds,
of hardened hearts,
not yet ready to believe in each other—
in ourselves.
And above, a black midnight
Reflected brilliantly upon the water;
a pool of ink.
The stars, dusted across the darkness.
We lunge, we dive, into
blackened pools of adrenaline and
nighttime.
The transformation hits us
like a wrecking ball;
like a wrecking ball,
numbness flows into us,
creeps unto us
as we stand, together,
the ink falling
from our shoulders
and skins;
from our judgments.
Our reflections are changed,
perhaps irrevocably.
And then the heat;
the heat.
A warm caress on our quivering skin,
a welcome silence to our chattering mouths,
now hushed, tired.
The taste of iodine, of laughter,
coats our dry, sticky lips as we
mute.
Our senses, now acute.
The sizzle and snap of
hot steam, cold breaths.
We taste, smell and now—
feel the sage, warming us.
And suddenly, out of the darkness,
I can imagine.
As if in a sunlit afternoon,
hot and humid.
Birds wings flash above brightly;
they flutter lightly, carefully extended,
beneath a robin’s-egg blue.
In the dark without a moon,
as our impurities and vanity
melt and collect at our dirt-covered fingertips,
we all extend our wings.
We all extend our wings and fly.
Trust the air. Feel the sky.
We are connected,
as if on a single wind.
Infinitely strong, yet perhaps
unseen.
Our skins are softened as we leave,
the breath of a story
still on our ears.
We breathe deeply a perfume-less air.
We flash our wings, now extended fully
without reserve
For all to see.