Silk

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,

watching, 

breathing

feeling,

as my wings spout forth from this cleansing

making me whole

(Ak.17)

 

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