time, it is a river that moves as fast as you do.
slow down, slow down, don’t move too fast— for oh, how this life will pass.
Tag: poets
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you’ve no idea
what is waiting
to pour through you,
pour from you,
if you’d just get out of the way.
you’ve no idea the river—
demolish that dam,
it is your mind.
demolish that dam,
it is your fear.
demolish,
pour.
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the very flame
of modernity:
a tea light.
should the Mother sneeze:
snuffed.
mistake not
a house of cards
for brick,
for mortar.
let your stronghold
be a castle in the sky:
let your fortress
be a palace of the mind,
a kingdom
in the heavens,
a throne of ether—
built
on the rock
of what came before,
and what will remain
long after:
after the Moon,
the Earth,
the Sun, the stars
fall,
one by one,
back
into the cauldron.
close your eyes:
you can see it dance
on your lids,
you can feel
the stirring ladle
in your veins,
its soup:
starlight.
what
could be more unshakable
than that
which cannot be touched?
time,
unstoppable force.
the spirit:
immovable object.
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sometimes,
love’s flame
is a fire that spills forth
as the sky cracks:
dawn’s light.
sometimes,
love’s flame
is a lamp burned.
its oil:
midnight.
love’s labors:
so oft
in those liminal spaces.
the heart’s torch:
the bravest tea light.
this love:
it is a quiet courage.
it has
no hall of fame.
it is
a gift
with no wrapping.
you feed on it—
you cannot see it.
you live on it—
you cannot feel it.
sometimes,
the truest loves
are unspoken,
& unseen,
but lived:
in the shadows.
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a numinous force, light itself, overtaking the senses, the nervous system, the whole of your being, electrified by something so pure//tidal waves behind the gentlest touch.
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sit with your sorrow:
it can’t hurt you.
you can.
sit with your fear:
it won’t hurt you.
you can.
sit with yourself.
turn your back?
you’ll stab it.
sit with yourself.
the most basic form of respect:
bearing witness.
sit.
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there was a look in your eyes
somehow… dead,
yet more alive
than i thought possible.
it looked like
you stared each of your fears
straight in the eye–
then, snakeskin:
they were shed.
it looked like
all that died
were the bits of you
that kept you from living.
i pray
you’ll keep me around,
if only to teach me how.
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Yours was the only bright light that made pupils not constrict, but dilate— as if they knew they needed to drink in as much of you as possible.
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you mustn’t ever love
something without claws,
you mustn’t ever love
what cannot bite.
a hand that feeds
should be ready
to bleed.
there’s no such thing
as love
that draws no blood.
only shut mouths
do not bite —
only in silence
are edges smoothed.
honesty: it is serrated.
love too.
there is no other way.
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 