I have grown accustomed it.
the sumptuousness of this silk
Each intricately strewn thread vibrating on the plains of consciousness
each weave, heavy with pain.
I have made my peace with it. Somehow.
The euphoria stealing its way to my life,
closing its hands upon my heart..
Numbing all else
electrifying the dead thing i insist on having.
I feel the cleansing each tear bring;
underneath the cover of this sumptuousness
this transformative call,
this reciprocity of life residing in death.
So now i wait,
as my wings spout forth from this cleansing
making me whole