the perfect cut

I fell in love with the tip of death- just a blade staring back at me. I didn’t have a handle and I was the weakest knife of all. I fell in love with the urgency of secrets he couldn’t hear. “Get it out, cut the sinner” yet, over and over it just wouldn’t work. The blade gets dull when it’s not sharpened- and the blade gets forgetful of its own power when it’s not being used properly. And I appreciate the cunning fix and the soft spoken haze around this intention- but I wonder how to make that cut without making a mess on the floor. I keep things clean in the basement- because it’s where I spend a lot of time- just staring at the tip of what might take me down for good. And yes, I’ve created a romance with my destroyer, coaxing him to lift the sword, because I am not afraid of looking down into a pool of blood. When I sit -and I feel -and I know -you do understand that my words are a juncture -and that I am a bringer of peace and not hurt- it’s up to me to go down this hole- because I’ve learned- and I do know -that there is only one fit for every throat. It’s deeper than a sound or a gurgle -it’s a split open fact-that it takes two swords to understand the greatness of one in this battle, do you understand?

And I do call this love.

Anything else I call hiding – hiding behind her skirt or his money- we should be blazing underground- we should be striking everything we see in each other with a committed gaze. We should watch her and see how she moves. I study you all the time- the strategy is everything. How will I make you do this? Because to be sure- it’s my obligation to bow and receive what you’ve got. And I know the sword has a maker, the tip of his head is always tilting toward me -and the golden plate always falls -crashing to the ground- because he tries too hard to win before he understands the weapon he has created- because we get so afraid that we’ve made this darkness by something we’ve done…but we could never make the dark -or the light-or do anything – we can only love them when they’re here -the way I love you wherever you are…and it’s so quiet- and I’m all alone -and the razor shines like a star out of blackness -and I know there is something more to this phase than just mere attraction- or cooking and cleaning -and I hear the words that linger unspoken before anyone has lifted a thing- and I already know that it’s all in your head- and your secret is safe with me.

Deep underground lies where we came from-who we are -and how we must go. They’ve already told me we are magic as one. I have already seen the end of the battle. Why do you think I’m here waiting? I have no interest in ordinary human relating…everything I say and do as I smile and wave and serve -is only so I can distract you while I study your heart and your sword- while I listen to your eyes telling me- while I see inside your voice where you’ve been -and all these things about you- are revealing to me where it is that you want me to take you. Don’t resist your own arrangement. I have no interest in human relationship- only destruction of what separates- and the rise of your fiery sun that singes every last particle of anyone that was ever here…so whatever you might think based on what I might say or do- just realize, I have never been a sinner or a god, I have never been anyone you could see just by looking- I’m sorry it has to be this way- but I’m tricking you, seducing you- just counting the seconds until you lift your eyes and cut me in half. I open the door to you, come down and find me waiting in the dark, telling stories to the shadows, staring at my retracted stain, hoping for the real holy truth this time. I call it the perfect cut. I believe in everything that I can’t see- which is the only lasting faith I know -my hollow ears let in the night so that I merely echo the only existence we have…I am a shell that sucks the sun-with nothing else to do but dream of you…as the light with a knife that can end my empty fate…and so I trust you because there is no one else with a knife like yours.

And haven’t I kept talking to make you feel at home -and haven’t I been saying the same thing all the time? And haven’t I given you permission to go down? And haven’t I lifted you higher than me? Don’t you see what I’m doing? Pay attention.

The lure is my love. My love touches the snake. The snake will do whatever I want him to do because he trusts me even if you don’t. We want the same thing, the solace of the blade. And the tip of death is his pitchfork tongue…
and the romance is the hiss of God…
and I cut cut cut…I am everywhere down here-and I can’t find myself anywhere…

sharp light…shocking flash…a sudden chill- and then a soft home coming… until a pool of warm memories bath the child in her uncommon fury…and it’s because a prayer lasts forever my dear…and it’s because my love never dies…

and also, I was right about you being the sharpest knife in the drawer.

Sharada Devi

7 thoughts on “the perfect cut”

  1. Cool
    This Sharpening alivens us
    the sharpness of the world, slow.

    Yes, thank you, blazing

    Such .validation
    And I’m only halfway through

  2. The honing stone sharpens more than just the blade
    it makes ready also the trace that shapes that of which we are surely made
    A work forever in progress and revealing
    forging, steeling
    long into intrepid night
    that always gently acquiesces and makes way
    for brilliant sunrise of formidable breaking day
    Solar fire burning bright to meld together the fragmented pieces of me
    the undercurrent of which some can seldom see
    I accept the gauntlet of striving always towards that flare
    of mystical presence that sometimes seems so rare
    but in essence is always in everything and everywhere
    The eye of the hurricane that swirls to spy inside
    the nooks and crannies where what begs to be illuminated
    runs to hide
    The servant of the servant holds the beckoning lantern
    to serve as guide
    The only obstacle to liberation is clinging to persistent pride
    cut cleanly to the bone
    using the fine line pattern which has been shown
    listen to recurring words impervious to distraction
    that become a lulling mantra that leads the way to celestial home
    we be the effulgent star seed that once was sown
    🌬 ♨️ ✨✨✨ ✨ ✨

    1. star seed. the dark seed. new moon birth.
      something is going on beneath the radar
      of tight words and cherished language.
      the rhyme doesn’t always know the words
      that fit between what we ignore -to stay in control of the thing the knife would cut-
      we try to be sharp but it never works
      until we give the blade away. Om Ma

      1. Oh She that wields the blade
        have mercy on me
        show me the way through that which limits and confines
        release me from ignorance.
        *the rhyme just flows without hesitation
        seeping and not held fast*
        like blood from an open wound.
        Oh Mother, You know my true heart
        Open me to a deeper understanding
        standing ready offering up my will.
        To be dull and redeemed
        rather than be a prisoner of words
        and longing.
        stumbling on the path that leads to total surrender
        trying and failing
        falling and trying again.

        1. This is so COOL!!! I feel like we’re in Lord of the Rings right now and we have those capes on with hoods and white horses and evil wizards and we have good intentions but
          the ring wants power and we dont know what to do because the world is about to end and
          we don’t know what to say because big black vultures are sweeping the skies for
          young virgins and the golden ring …meanwhile, the big eye in the sky is watching…and what’s her name? Hold me down in surrender- because I can never get enough air as a drowning corpse- and the marshes are treacherous and the mountains are high and sharp- and we really mean nothing unless
          we give up the cause to be seen or heard from ever again – because the ring is wicked and about to take over the planet! So COOL! And not boring at all! Thank God for Radhe⚡️

  3. Hmmmm….you always make me feel like i am doing somersaults…
    🙃 ♻️ ¿❓
    well my favorite part of which ever of those Hobbit stories, is when they hide themselves in barrels and
    plunge head-long into the death defying river rapids. Boldly and without rational thought
    hurling themselves into the unknown.
    💢 🔵 💢

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