Trivial things became monstrosities,
and Malice gave birth to gods.
Before I had a chance, my world imploded–a closed off area:
I became helpless and stuck with woolen jealousies.
I only wanted silken bonds–rich, invincible and wanted.
It’s Bethlehem became a legend, like El Dorado:
Whatever it was, it lingered,
purring, full with sustenance with our catch while we starve.
With my limbs longer, and heart bigger,
the hunting stopped.
I exorcised the false king in its languor;
And the void needed another, like a soul for a soul.
And love, and hope fluttered in, finding home,
like me.
And things grew quiet but safe and full.
We’re moving on.
