I don't want to die
A ghost is an echo
I want to be the opposite
Shout through me

Can I leave my eyes here?
To see but not be seen?
I dream of dispersal
A trillion motes of
Every place there's ever been
Everywhere at once

No walls to see through
No body, no mind, no stride
Transcendence of senses
To fade into the blue
To know every side
To know and nothing else

Bare monstrosity
carved for me

protected, decorated
Unleashed for me; I

Love myself ugly so— ugly,
so lovely a word, and secretive.

Could not dare measure

the lengths and lengths
of its shadowy stretch.

So willingly blind, I
lurk oblivious into my depths

Lost to the haze

my drowning—
my stillness. Lost;

but a memory, clinging,
stays:
Lush gold fields
subsiding to moor.

Then the fire they lit.

Ripped for me
emptied and burned for me,
My own beloved lamb.

I wish I yielded,
melted; wish I shivered—
pleaded.

I wish I wasn’t such a god

wish I knew the taste of
my blood, the burning redness,

the undying throbbing of it
The ever-coiling restraint of it

Rattling chains, I wish I had.
Marked with my name

So terrifying this transcendence
so terrifying I—

Pining to be loved
I sought asylum within these pages
Every line, every word, every rhyme
Was a reflection of the sorrow that ruminated
Beyond the looking glass.
Yes, I fathomed I was alone without a
Guiding star, without a lodestar to lead the way, O, but now I am liberated
By The Sovereign of Songbirds
Who solaces me by his mellifluous musicality.
(Yes, I am free)

Soaring beneath the stratosphere, thermosphere, mesosphere, and exosphere
I saw all the suffering underneath the sun
And remembered what it was like to slumber.
Rest is something I took for granted
Feeling it was only forged to flee lament; oh, but that is only half the freedom
Of truth: Yes, we are reborn when we slumber.
So lull me and lead the way; furthermore, I am liberated.
The Sovereign of Songbirds enspirits me
By the clairron lullaby, by His voice.
(O, I am free)

Dreaming, I lost sight of all that made me human;
Limitations forgotten, I drifted heavensward. I forsook
All I held beloved.
Why must phantasy mean sacrifice? Must the fantast
Be sundered in order to claim transcendence, ascendence?
Yes, I was burned by The Incendiary Sun but
My heart has survived. It leads the way to liberty.
I am risen by The Sovereign of Songbirds who resurrects me.
I am summoned from the ashes like a Phoenix Rising.
(O, I am free)

(Se’ lah)