awoke to the foot of my bed

illuminated like a sparkler against the holiday night sky
like eyes of a cat, caught in the beam of headlights
like a burning bush, crackling and throwing away it’s spark
           without losing flame

i’m still the same girl, from long ago, in a body stretched and worn
from time, circumstance, small bodies - with small fingers and toes

i’m still the same woman, curled up under vacant ceilings and barren walls
inwardly reclining into the only Comfort that remains

eyes like glass, like mirrors, reflecting the flashing light
prisms - always moving to and fro, like empty bowls filling up
         fill me up, Oh Ancient glory, let me overflow

puppetry upon the wall, shadows of myself basking in the light of You
here I am fixated. longing. still inwardly screaming to let You burn me.

let me reach these tired arms out, out, into the high degree of Love
that i’m charred, ruined, marked

always awake.

grand Mystery, making known, to myself, in the moments stretched between awake and asleep
a soul at rest, and You sing to me, from within the Fire, from within the Flame

You are concrete, that I’ll settle my feet into

You are flesh and bone, that I’ll let my tears fall onto

You are radiating light, that I’ll fall down upon
          because I’d rather burn with You
          and be illuminated
           than live a thousand days ruling my own kingdom from a dark, crumbling castle.

Wake me up again, O Giver of Life. Wake me up again.

God of gods.
King of kings.
Totally other than - greater than.
Giant among giants - You are.

from Your mouth - came winds of life,
swirling, swirling, hovering, making.
from Your hand - came help to the
weary, worn enemy. opposed. heart like grey stone.

we said help, there You were.
Your light scared away the shadows.
Your light, beams of love, foreign to me.
in that light was Home. You were Home.

day after day I search the rooms of who You are.
unstoppable expansion of what to Know.
unimaginable extension of what to Taste.
undeniable power radiating these Walls.

doors leading to gardens leading to You and I.
Your heart this House. Your face this Man waiting for me
so kindly on the bench of ivy.
You are Him, and He is You - but not.
but yes.

This mystery, it's what brick by brick
built where I find myself.

I scream, just to see how the sound echoes back.

Soundwaves transformed into song.

You sing over me. You take the ashes still lingering on my skin
from the lesser flames of this world.
the kind that char flesh. not like Yours.

from within Your Fires come purified love.

You are even making the mess from before into something beautiful.

I'm here, but there.
I'm in You - your walls stopping the wind,
but You send me out
as you dwell Within.

We are here, but there, but not.

Let's stay together, You in me, I in You,
forever.
Fused together, dreaming, doing, extending this kingdom
You are bringing, that which is Here.

You've won, yet You're winning, yet You'll win.
It's over yet it's not - and I'm in it for the long haul.

You in me, I in you,
forever.

we are all born from blood and water
from mud we could have been formed
the air enclosed within, breathing, out and in
of heavenly descent

we are all but skin draped on bones
we are all blood rushing, muscle stretching
electricity in the brain
we are all creatures. crawlers. walkers.

houses of cell walls built high
to house glory
a home to the otherworldly

a human furnace meant to harbor
an unquenchable flame
burning and blazing and bursting forth
through our mouths as we
speak

a flicker
a flicker
a brilliant flash of light
and a song

as heaven collides with earth
a twilight of glimmer betwixt night and day
when the supernatural snuggles near
the here and now

dwelling within the surrendered ***** of humanity
whose feet are grounded to the earth he was given
like a temple, like an ark,
is the power of the Uncreated force

we are all walking to die
as the days tic by
time like a hurricane, wind by wind reminding us
of the finite conclusion

so
radiate life force
bridge eternity into finality
collide life with death and
set sparks until we see
His wildfire

all while tending to the Light within
ashes to ashes. dust to dust. flame to flame.

I heard this tale once, tall and towering,
yet somehow true...
and for its borrowing
i am here to let it out,
break the seams,
let rushing water overwhelm
this
infamous drought.

listen all ears
hungry for
emerald
and gold.
galatic fairytales
parables of old
hidden enigmas
never been told.

what could this be.

the great feeding
the mystery breeding
the beautiful shes
and the powerful hes
all in need.

for they are the broken.
they are the maimed.

and out of the heart shaped cavern of
hunger.
the calvary speaks,
"whisper Oh Man of the Desert
dusty feet
a wellspring of waters
tall oak Tree.

bury my bones in the
depths of your belly.

count back down from three.

let me grow
out of your skin
and speak to these roots,
say to these anchors like lead -
that hollow evenings are about to be fed
with cement
and there we shall sink deeep deeep
covered
in
the unbreakable.
unshakeable.

make us beautiful."

and there He stands.
mighty Man of war -
the jewel of the desert
sparkling against the Saharan sun

He vies for frail affection
like a hungry village for the burnt batch of rice.
dusty frames have no delight to offer
but still He withholds, only to entice.

this King, a jar filled with blood,
is Wisdom
rushing
roaring
soaking
the alluring Flood.

sparkle.
shine.
glitter.
sweet red wine.

"lets drink from your cup.
garnished veneer
golden studded handle
bubbles
and water
and red
and tears."

this is a pining for light.
liquid illumination.

He sets people on fire.

the people's come bounding.

it's the Burning Man in the desert.

His call is resounding.

and the great eagles of the sky
peer with their one seeing eye
down into the great bowl of sand
the seemingly barren barren barren land.

and the great God of the flame
is surrounded by rusty and weathered lampstands
the shattered and lame.

but they too
are burning.
burning.
burning.

"in His river of fire,
we are illuminated."

no one is being consumed.
like moses and His bush.
forever blazing
this is the hour.


watch.
squint into the Sun.


He breathes.

i am...
a little child awakening from slumber. eight hours, three hours, ten. all curled up in cotton - lying upon the mattress which is lying upon the floor. soaked in sun rays kissing upon skin. knowing not what today holds. a blank letter in a vibrant envelope. imagining and playing along. this is that. this is there.

i am...
a dancer who dances, mostly alone, through carpeted hallways and kitchen tiles. silent rooms like a silent film, scratch it back, back, back in time. or ribbons and bows of harmony to melodies that tied themselves around my heart, around my feet, to stir up love. sway to the right to the rhythm and bend to the left to the beat.

i am...
a lover. loving. longing to be loved. to taste love or feel it rustle the leaves of my heart. to eat love up like one would swallow the sweetest of candies down into the belly. than breathe out the scent of sugary goodness upon it's partaker. fragrant eating fragrance being its own delight, being your delight, delighting in you delighting in me.

i am...
a writer who houses words within a carcass. a tent of a being that's made of skin and bones where words and sentence and description dwell. the a's and b's are indians chanting in their teepees, burning a fire. but this smoke that arises is pale, pathetic narration's of the hurricane within. rushin' round and round.

i am...
a musician, if only in dreams, for melodies are heard and tinkering of keys within a record player that is playing my vinyl. but there is no megaphone to let the tunes free - singing, singing, singing chained down. the rhapsodies of heaven. the lyrics of prophecies. the braided do, ray, me's of another world.

i am...
an artist of sorts. making that which is like a pressed flower between the pages of the book. hidden from anyone, folded between story and word. it is poor & starving. starving & poor. it is letting this little string of the tapestry hide for another day when it has the hands and dollars and dimes to weave it back together.

i am...
a dreamer. a seer. a participant and viewer of a great, and even grander, theater. watch the heavy, velvet curtain be pulled back upon angel's wings. in the day. in the night. seeing things from other places. other worlds. other times. waiting. wanting. waiting to let them fly free from the cage of the rough pages of the diaries of unknown into the blistered hands of the hungry and upon the parched tongue.

i am...
21 in a world that is but 1-80, yet bought by a God who extends past the numeric line of time. an Infinite where beginning resides and ending finds its home. that which beats within is made up of the same blood type titled eternity - where the zeros never stop nor does the ticking and circling of the hands of the clock.

i am...
a woman. a woman. a woman. a responder. a creator. a connecter. a mother. wanting to feel the contrast. wanting to hold the tomorrow's in the womb of her today and breathe life and beauty onto the coming fields of darkness, little puffs of air from lungs that create lilies hidden in thorns. adorned with buttons of an inner-sanctuary and lace of gentle waves crashhhing upon the rocky shore.

i am...
a nomad, whose grasping, yet fully alive. letting life live, living life. a wanderer in an unknown land, riding in the carriage of refusal - denying this is home, resisting the roots wanting to go down, down deep into the crumblin' earth, commanding a heart to look towards the time when that Desirous One takes the scroll and makes all things new.

i am...
what i am that i am.