black flower blossom

I have no more words. Fall, sound. Into the bottom of the lie. I back up further and further. In and away. Cold, remote. I hear the words others could never say. And I stay alone, back here. Listening. There is something about me that pulls at their throats. Two people once stood in the fog, waiting. Now only I stand and I don’t wait anymore. I am here, growing cold and silent. My words were left, undiscovered. The fire I started only burned me. This thing could only ever be a boomerang. An empty head with thoughtless teeth. Aimlessly hurting itself by acknowledging its existence. This isn’t real. I was here for awhile, pacing the shores. The fog was deep and heavy. I found others but they could never see me. All washes away in the tides. The echoes move back and forth creating nightmares and dreams. Promising fear and romance. I know what this does, I just don’t know what it is. I am something that has been rolled back and forth for a very long time, expected to be active, expected to unwind. I am assuming. The head, in command. The tail, shot from a failing nightless sky. I haven’t spoken. I haven’t moved. I stood slowly sinking looking up. As if meaning existed elsewhere, or anywhere. The lost what was lost, nothing. On an empty shore I realize I have done these things and then watch them happen. The way shells lie scattered all waiting for one to say something the others haven’t yet said. I say nothing. I only sound back the white noise as it falls through me. My interpretation for the others I can’t see. The fog, my empty head, my ocean heart. My bottomless sadness at how we will never touch the bottom of anything. We, myself are tossed as redundant vessels back and forth between life and death waiting for morning or love. From somewhere else there is supposed to be a heavenly female voice that eventually calls us all back into the primordial waters…so that the shells go away, the shore has no purpose, the water covers the surface as if this world was never here. And from the place inside I seek these words, the water might as well be filled with the stars of heaven or the God we feel is upward might as well be the heaviest anchor of all. If only I could hear you, sea your eyes as they once were, one more time. I think I could live either way and be full. Whether in darkness or light I wouldn’t be alone. Does anyone know what I’ve done with myself, trackless love. Anchor body, ghostly woman, long cold fingers, the heaviest heart could be mine…sharada devi

3 thoughts on “black flower blossom”

  1. The best thing she’s ever written.

    It floats on smoke, and I’m not sure who, taken up, to be broken to the sky, the rain comes and it isn’t me anymore. But the sadness that makes no sense but to give the ocean. All the words mean return me to you. The aching, beating heart that won’t break, the silence.

  2. I took this long walk yesterday on the Boone Fork Trail. It reminded me how much I love. There is so much depth in us that it’s not always felt. Even the colors of the trees looked more vibrant when I rose. I felt so stiff from the load I carry and my bones. On the bones sits the Soul. And we wander and wonder at our eyes open. Another day the pain will swing. And hallelujah there is joy. Even if just brief a gutteral laughter at nothing really (and everything ), with no time to think. It’s fleeting. The immersions make it worth it. Falling in the frozen waters and still in one piece. The pieces of us may feel out of sorts, but then there’s our heart still ticking. And she waits for nature’s call. The bluebirds they swoop in and out of trees. They have a message for you and one for me. I will send you Light~ Om

  3. earthly indignation awaits the will of heaven
    biding time
    yesterday’s tomorrow sorrowfully assumes the shape of today
    jagged cut to the quick
    marrow drips
    silent syllables
    ebony blooms
    darkened heart petals falling one by one
    burnt black by an unapproachable sun
    the shallow sighted see nothing relevant.
    severing ties
    abundant lies
    lacking disguise the unrequited ones who plea from afar
    clamor to take their chance at last.
    I live to breathe the rarified air
    seeking out the where that sustains the miraculous

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