Wednesday, May 27, 2015

gray

Sitting
looking out the front windows to the south
 tossing words carelessly around as I try and come up with something worthy. 
Worthy of myself, worthy of your time & attention. 
You.
My interior landscape is bleak, not cooperating in the least ... words pinball thru mind;
carnal love, familia love, intimacy, knowing, trust, ease ... truth.
Outside, 
The wind shifts
suddenly lifts one of the dark motley gray branches of the oak tree,
raising it from its resting place into a patchwork section of the sky's palest blue, 
and I see it.
 There. 
In the contrast of this smooth alice-blue sky against the tattered & mottled feldgrau of the oak.
electric alchemy of two things:
the colliding line where energy brings like energy
cosmic ouroboros completed
humans believe in their whole & their true
when myth & grace teach us blue
fragmented little beasties 
the shiny ones break 
glass upon stone 
together 
as lovers
as intimate pirates
 ... and when the chains & pulsing tributaries of our soul recognize a smell, a song, a taste of another ... to 'sing the body electric' is home, where kisses taste of mandarin oranges & lavender and sex smells of smoke & lightening .... well. 
Then. 
Contrast. Alchemy. 
There is no inch of skin too sacred, no word too tender or too wicked. It is the narration of a very individual story, told in the contrast & collide of open hands upon warm waiting skin, 
it is the give & take, 
the surrender of self to take in, 
to fuck stars and dazzle your own soul with peace and presence and the unchartered understanding of another exhausted transcendence follows as one steps back to self, to earth, where separation can be another set of contrasts; full to empty, happy to void, fractured to circled wholeness the closer to the fire one stands, the more insane the remainder feels ... 
Oh! 
and that becomes a rub 
...to pull the alchemy into your soul
allow it to shift awareness 
to lean towards life with more of everything, 
Ah ...  that thread .... becomes the axis. 
Holding the thread becomes your being ...  
to carry the connection thru to the ordinary hours becomes your religion. 
If you falter, let go ... 
(which surely happens)
well that is a dark companion that is hard to fight, hard to quell its stench and temper. 
So hold on. 
Let the silver and mercury 
mix with sulfur and gold ... allow the richness of knowing to temper against the dark
guard against the cold 
staunch the flow of blood from the gaping wound 
of 
the collide. 
That rugged line of gray against the smooth alice-blue .... Alchemy love. 

Heavy black heart

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