Wild

I feel alive.

Alive beyond living, intake air, stepping into the stream, eyes open, always aware.

I hear a low rumble, a vibration from deep within the land. Humming while she sleeps. Circus like a parade.

25 days of blood on her hands. Seven gates closing in. Between fate and death and emotions and sensuality, something is going to break. Femininity at its finest. I'm feeling out skeptics and I'm feeling in silkworm threads and I'm feeding into dream catchers and I'm breathing into candles to keep me lit.

Calming takes her away from here. Mourning the losses here, and I'm letting her die on the side of the road. Not my typical fare, in a religious sort of way. She's crawling off, sulking into the night, and I'm off to church in the spotlight. I'm on my knees, begging for forgiveness.

I always seem to be begging for forgiveness. I'm on my mount my cross, seeking out my messiah.

I feel the humming. I feel my change. Walking through the mist of daybreak. Abandoning civilization, stripping of jewels, disrobing. Blowing desert breeze, cool at midnight. Setting a flame into heart, passion unbounded.

I feel the growl, deep within my throat, pulling in from the land, the desert, the sand and the sun, and I'm striking deals with gods, goddesses, creatures, like the angelic voiced bird woman perched in my sails.

Sun worship under water. I'm dreaming dreams, wishing for mermaids and her dolphins that come by to take her down. I close me off in a dentalium because I'm there, on the floor, collecting tears that go to rivers. I pluck my heart from the equation and I create a galaxy of perfection, where sixty billion light years away, not a MACHO, I'm still simply a beam of light, coming over and over, extending out beyond this cosmos. I fear my galaxy fits snugly in a black hole and we have lost all realization of spacetime.

Here I am, cafe in Rochester, paws in rivers in Egypt, formed from calcite. Here I am, on guard, watching. Here I am. I am waiting.