I keep reading about a crossroads. Or maybe I wrote about it, I can’t remember. But either way, a crossroads is where we are at. At this cross. I’ll remember everything. I’ll appreciate every moment of you. I’ll write your name in the sky, on the trees, I’ll fill the pages of my life with you. Nothing will go away, not even the words I’d rather not write, remembering how we lose things. At the crossroads. We stand alone. It’s our creative upheaval that churns the underworld and makes the snakes rise. Swaying like tall grass, watching us wonder. Stars, crosses, diamonds for eyes. We wear everything and cannot find the answer to when or how. If we cannot go, the way of the lonely, we cannot be who we are. Minus the fear of aloneness and worthlessness. I however see the light at the end of the choice. The choice that strips you of your skin and face. Without a name or any money. You, became the chiseler of time. That’s the crossroads, the split. The little girl demon who wants only you. To rise from the hole. And ascend like the snake who brought you here. And listen and move to the sound of my heart. My heart who remembers you in every gestation. Long long ago. Along side the crystal river we walked, barefoot over ice and snow. Crystal blue skies. Frozen like the ripples upon the water. This happens to make you remember. Me. And don’t you forget. We always had a choice. You came back. We walked barefoot through the mountain snow as if it were summer. Laughing. That’s right. Knowing the black heart won’t kill us when we do the right thing. The right thing means, at the fork, go where you were originally headed. Stop compromising for weakness and don’t ever forget the images you sent me. The images you sent me, to find you. Within me. But it wasn’t just that. It was this other place too, so real. This memory of how and why. The when is now. We are staring into her inferno eyes and yet cannot see she lives inside the snow as fire. Inside the fire as ice. Inside the darkness and fear as God and love. So today does matter because this is where we are. Now. Reading the palms of each other’s hands. Looking inside the cave to find no one lying fast asleep dreaming of asuras and angels who lead both to bright and to sullen kingdoms because of witchcraft. Because she remembers. What you really want beneath and above all the seeming seamless changes. It doesn’t work that way, that all roads lead out. No they don’t. You’ll get lost, eventually retrack your steps and find her again at the Y in your heart. Black because of time and forgetting. Light because I’m still here tracing you inside me, feeding the snakes who always know how and lifting the little girl as high as she’ll go, which is supremely high. Inside the wrath of our birth, we keep killing the wrong things like our dreams and our only true friend. We want out, into a bigger vision. We want to exhale and mean it. Hear the sound of our breath breathing infinity, purring and wild like a cat. But you hold that cat and pretend she’s yours. This is the same cat from the parking lot I mentioned last week if you even care. She is a messenger and a guide and yet you think she’s your pet or your charity case. I think you need to remember me, from before. I will not forget you, let go while you’re dying. I will drag you to the place inside where we gestate. Felines from serpents and dreams from mere ghosts and I will wake the new dawn just in time for God. God who is coming in every word. Every pain painted, every teardrop that never got heard but discovered in me. How I became all to know all. How I hurt all to feel all. How I make love to fear because I know you. At the crossroads. The fork I eat from. The Y does matter. Why are you here. Like this. Knowing better. Ignoring me deeply. Never looking back into anyone’s eyes with an unbearable confidence that says yes I see us both and we together form a cross. We together walk sideways. We together cannot know that we together fall apart if we do not see her changing the moon into the sun. If we do not see the black heart is because of that fire. Everything and everyone dies but the remainder of this charred love. Of hers. Which is a message that choices do matter and the right choice is to move into the burning heart and stop standing and staring at the past. Inside of me, there is nothing but a girl on her knees, in the dark, praying to the sun inside her little faithful heart. And all because I’ve seen beyond that she is a prophet and we are her prophesies. Do not forsake me. I write poems to save the world not myself. The end is upon us. I will not leave without you. This means forever we go into the clock. Into darkness making the light rise from ourselves. As the true sun of fire, as the snake hidden in the grass. I am the meaning behind his words.
Prophecy. Read deeper. Sharada Devi