The years turned into damp
Mossy bricks
Stacked in the humus of a dark corner
Too recent to be light
Too ancient to be dispensed
No bricklayer hands ever near.
I am too small
Too weak, too thin, too white
Too tall, too smooth, too angular
Too effeminate, too self-concerned, too defensive
Too loud, too smart, too bald,
Too soft, too hard, too plastic.
These slow healing wounds
These beautiful scars
Talismen of the Fear
Jeweled remnants suturing
Experiences. Wisdom. Gratitude.
Epiphytic reminders of Compromise
Become new design elements of a beautiful landscape
Where acceptance is Embraced and Transmogrified.
And in this place
The dry husk-formed shell
Relents under claw-like attack
Releasing the ripe sweet nectar
Whose wait was alchemic
Whose time has come
This succulent fruit
Will deliver the LifeForce which brings
End
To Debauchery of Hope.
And so…
You are my Experiment.
Will I be able to stand *****
On this platform rising from shadow
Will I look you in the eye
And when I do
Will you see my true Heart
Resting in the Lotus of my Hands.
Rising. Aloft.
And Beaming.
