good hurt
What do you know?
Face to face, pale as my excuses excuses…..
The moments fall.
Tasting fear in the back of my throat,
Singing in the rain,
Soaking through like bruises.
Who said there’d be a drought?
Grasping for that space between;
Growing up and growing old,
Two breaths,
This thought and the next.
Almost inevitable, almost invincible,
Invisible;
Always and only mostly there.
Existentially incorrect
Mind breaking open
Water from the stone
The desert calls me onwards
This thirst I swim in
Wanting salt for the wound
Wanting, All of This Ocean, inside me.
__________________________________________________
"If that Spirit of Faithfulness7 sheds my blood, I will drink gulp
after gulp of (my) blood,8 like the earth.
"I am a drinker of blood, like the earth and like the embryo.9 (And)
this (has been) my occupation (ever) since I've been a lover.
"At night, I continue boiling on the fire,10 like a kettle. (And) from
day until evening, I'm drinking (my) blood, like the sand.
~RUMI
http://www.dar-al-masnavi.org/n.a-III-3884.html
__________________________

Help




ah, what can I say? yet I cannot pass by this tremendously potent poem without at least saying thank you.
I, too, must admit that I have no “wise and insightful comment” and yet still want you to know that I stop by and read what you write.
Thanks for stopping by my friends. To Hell with “Wise and insightful”, pleasant conversation suits me just fine. :)
This piece was especially fun to put together, I am glad you enjoy.