how I was killed by a great thing

I have been stung by a great thing, and I suffer in the density of its greatness all day long and all night long I serve it’s ending of me. I really want to go. I am not immune to your sound. I’ll do anything for a glimpse of what might happen when I’m gone. In this other place where the vessel barely knows the thing that hijacked it, is this fog that rolls in and covers my body in a blind velvet cusp until I surrender to this clouded great thing that grabs me and whispers in my ear, the sound of me no longer living. This is where I know my way around, where somebody gave me the death of me…to the words that come before you hear them, meaning I will love you until the end of time, until you throw the lightening and take my head. I used to dream about you, but now I only see myself…now you’re just a germ on the bathroom floor and nobody ever saw you bending over the kitchen sink and nobody ever saw you crawling down the hallway looking for your eyes…nobody but me.

Groping with the clasp of certainty and never letting go of doubt…I am bound like a fossil in stone, these bones bearing a dreaded decay, I can barely feel the thing that stings anymore. I hear you through me hissing, as I imagine wasps must do, and through the numbing horror of my devotion, I listen to myself weeping in a place without you, because I love you even though it hurts like hell…

and I don’t even know who you are…I watch myself reaching and I don’t have the arms to catch you…I feel myself dying and I don’t even know what death is.

I wore the diadem as a matter of fact, my luck carved in stone- and it’s what I deserve. I am all I have- and I don’t even matter, the truth remains that I’m just not enough…that’s why I am going to the other place, where everything slips back into someone else…and I can forget everything I said when I tried to be the one who said it.

So until I get to the other place, the place where the trace of another may be, I am only barely here, holding onto something I can only imagine, somehow being without ever having… somehow myself all alone, never enough. Engulfed by a large moving figure who only shows his face in rocks at the pitch of night, me, looking back as dark as him, I become as a stone might become.

Heavy with heaviness.

Set firm in how I think this should go…. in the other place, I imagine I might be by now, I will always love you, remember, like a rock whose loves stays always the same and barely ever changes …and I will etch it across every stone I see, my solid dream of you. You don’t have to know that I’m here, deep in the clutches of a more serious earth, always waiting for you to find me. I keep saying “I do and it’s real” because you know that this echo of flesh and blood is an imminent threat that only ends one way and now that I’m almost gone I am sad that the words were never written by me, my thoughts turning over went unheard by you, the words never spoken by me to tell you why. I will find your way way through me, and me alone, as a tower being struck by you, or a searchlight you held searching for my peace, as my hand finally touching its own divine likeness…don’t think I don’t see it because I always did and I always will. You left me, forever stumbling on memories that never were, how I was killed by a great thing and thought that you did it. I will burn for you until the the end of coal. My face in yours until the end of time…

I’m as empty as God.

Remember me,
Sharada Devi

6 thoughts on “how I was killed by a great thing”

  1. THERE WAS A RIVER who called me home into fast flowing water. She would sing to me like the Indian mother with the big gold nose ring and rub my forehead with my head in her lap. She is our mind that makes us crazy, she eats from our skull and drinks our hot blood of ego. Who do we think we are? As important as a grain of sand on the beach of time. After we suffer enough she kills us and we die in her arms of fire and the smoke carries us away to be born another day. On the edge of the river a large fire is raging, an old man is sandwiched between piles of wood. A young man watches the flesh melt off his face and his eyeball drops into the hungry flames. This was the first time I saw her black face in the smoky incense of burning flesh. She said, “you all sure like to use me, mother, sister, maid, bag lady, big fat black mama at the toll both just around about midnight.” She wants darshan, to be seen as GOD the creator of all form. Karma made us and will take us unless we find the key hidden under mother’s pillow. She wants the river of tears then she will free us from our mad mind. Listen up my friend before it’s too late to kiss her lotus feet. Only pure love and devotion frees, nothing else works. You just can’t make a deal with her, because she holds all the cards. The queen of hearts came to get me, because I just kept calling her name as the wind blew through the trees. That silver sliver moon hooks you every time.
    There is grave and mercy in her wild hair.
    Great grandfather deer-tail

    1. I saw your eyes popping
      out of the fire
      I threw in my arms
      and said take me,
      always the eyes,
      the spark then the death…
      I bet I could reach you
      deep inside the place
      where nothing is

  2. I can see you, your amber glowing astral body, inside the nocturnal womb of dream’s chamber, touching the sparkling granite with only your fingertips in the pitch darkness, never shrieking away from the cold ,reassuring guidance. Then , even through the dense rock barrier, you shine like the sun…energy coming from the supernova within you , to fill the cracks with spiderweb veins of beautiful light for us all to see….because we are the ones trapped inside,spewing ignorance in the sake of good intentions, but not you , glorious Dakini giving us Aarti with your divine light, you are on the outside, dancing with wisdom , uninhibited in her silky cosmic velvetness. You speak without uttering a word. Showing us how to not play the habit game. To find the courage to stand on own on two feet, to grow our roots deep in the truth dirt. It’s always been you.

    Forever amazed
    Kamala Devi

    1. gripping the goddess of love
      I take you with me
      like an angel takes its wings
      deep into another heaven
      into the velvet secret
      of her smouldering
      bottomless eyes

      into you, the goddess butterfly
      dreaming of my endless,
      deeper than death,
      bottomless love for you.

      you’re a great writer
      beautiful,sexy, sacred and wise
      Kamala Devi with the lotus eyes

  3. love and peace on the mother light blog:

    Hineni is Moses burning. me not really ready
    In cosmic sacred heart the probable apocryphal crest
    only a matter of time wonderous
    You could be breath like a dove!
    There is a guy in his vines somewhere supported by angels
    feet could be failing, Hysteric – as in the healing bliss effects an ecstatic smile
    It’s all One can do because the brain is also burning while the electric orange light gels
    Is this the earth, bright shining in the next solar flair as a vajra lattice mace

    A ridiculous bag of bones melting in space,

    1. You just turn it up
      all the way.
      As close to close
      as you could be…
      a razor sharp black bird
      hunting just outside of my window…
      perfectly ominous and
      somehow unnoticed by most,
      you’re going to win at this
      clean shining and vivid
      black skull with wings.

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