the quiet entering moon

Do you know, bloodless, I am alive for you. Do you touch, emptiness, her skin does not lie. Do you hear, forgiven, I fall and never land. Do you reach, for me somewhere, when no one else is listening. Do you hear me softly spinning beneath your feet. Do you tell me, secretly the unspoken words. When the mirror breaks, inside the broken, do you keep running for the light. Do you remember, little bright star, where you live. I sit in a room made of humming and I stare into space filled with you. In my head, all the tears went. In my heart, the dropping song. In my body the pain of ghosts. I am everywhere, because of you, I am lost. In all the words, my message is mortal. In all the aching, my god is known. You left me, without going anywhere. And I stood alone, searching, without moving at all. I stared at you, while you watched me writing. Not noticing why, the words clashed as they did. I spoke at our silence, I kept most locked away. Not because words don’t count but because I am their origin. There is a place you told me that is eternally pure. We shall go when we die, our skulls have been pierced. Together. We will find god there. Not here, never here. The now, aches while we talk about aching. The god rises, of this world commanding his time. You begin to erase yourself right in front me me, waiting. Always waiting for you. There was a break one day. Another day. Lonely, God spirals in these things I’m doing. But what about those who are ignored, not heard. The vengeance between us. The glorious harmonies, the white heavenly force that I clearly revealed, from you. The white lost god from you. Stuck like glass in your lung. Sing for me, I remember who you love. For both of us I remembered, pretended. It was me, I was there. Growing older, softer, more afraid and yet more invincible than any human should ever be. Don’t knock on the door, don’t go near that door at all. Do you hear me, are you hungry. Where are the dogs. It’s getting late, the leaves are falling and the breeze has turned to ice. Between us, I smile, laugh, avoid the ignored. Deep in the night, though. Restless is the silence he won’t hold. Terror is the grumble, the rumbling below this old bed. The ceiling watches, little starlight…and never forgets where you go. My beloved, this body is a rag. I could clean you with myself. This heart is a chamber. I could protect you here. This mind is a whorehouse, I could just imagine the dark and write it. This place is our home and yet we keep driving. The stage, the noise, the thousands of eyes. They don’t know you. They don’t hear me. We are turning inside out for the spotlight, using god as a horse. This is impossible to pretend, the lonely could hear the ignored. We could leave, each other. Yet never can the shine leave the jewel. I could dump out my insides and roll towards the dimmer fire. I could give my head to you. You could stop ringing the bell. We could sit on the side of the road humming the hours of this night away. You, my oldest friend could take a bow and go. They could all disappear. And the lonely could finally touch the ignored. I remember the empty road up the mountain…the quiet entering moon.  Sharada Devi

7 thoughts on “the quiet entering moon”

  1. This is my life, blood, that makes the world small or not at all. Because it is too cold and dead and dumb. To my everything, you make me live.

    What are they going to do- when are they going to wake up. I don’t think they will and so I have to do it all for you. Otherwise I join the empty crowd.

    The gentleness I need, the burning I feed, the truth breaks me. Shine, that is my pain and grace. Powerful place. The rest is held, meet me every day. Every day, a fire for you. With nothing left – thank you, that is all I can ask.

    So that I can walk in the cold dark rain, knowing fire, all the way.

    Walking Phoenix Garuda

    1. You can walk through the cold dark rain
      being the fire. You could start a flame and get inside over and over til the cold is gone and the warmth is not needed.
      Firebird, you could save us all by rising.
      Fly Phoenix, the mystical bird as a winged God over this sad fireless land.

      Corpses mumble and stomp imagining desires they don’t even have the fire to know…the flame, blue and bright never dies but jumps from soul to soul as we listen to the sky.

      Get inside the heart of God.
      The beat is the rhythm is the fire.
      The need to know. How far down this story goes…in flames, to ashes and back.

      Strike.

      Lightening Bird is the truth.

      1. Thank you, steel support. Reverberates message to break veils. Strength has a rhythm you mentioned. “From soul to soul as we listen to the sky.” Where pain is carried. To the nesting ground. I breathe deep 🔥because right now my pain is deeper, and my love deeper still.

        Blue-black carrier, flame of cold return. My beat, waves of blood carry you, my life. If I could give it up, would you marry me. One step at a time, this beat takes my breath.

        And I pull you close to feel my pain. Desire to put out the flame, changes, and you put me out, to come back, a taller wave. I am broken on the beach, waiting for your return, your face as mine, slip the sands of time.

  2. childlike optimistic eyes search for something more.
    with starlight still lingering on awestruck lashes,
    i am resigned to become skilled in the art of settling for less.
    watching, disenchanted, while expectations of integrity evaporate.
    evening captions that must suffice.
    What has happened to the days of an easy gift. A singular victory.
    Where did goodness go?
    my impeccable tell works no magic in the land of the careless
    i live in the slender crevices where no one wants go
    days tick by
    dwelling in solitude, removed from touch
    body cursed, tainted by the world at large
    lengthening locks incrementally measure out the map of mortality
    reflection becomes a daily dose of torture
    dust to dust
    doesn’t happen fast enough

    1. heavy heart weighed by an empty world-
      where participation is required and pricy-
      we breathe the same air, hide beneath the same sullen sky. Pray to the same screens and curse the same lunar face.
      The sun wakes us up to go earn.
      Please be brave while blinking for them.
      Words, my many lost words, pitted and dim.
      Let us believe in the sun that is behind what we see, where God was written out of this picture and yet became it. We could find a reason to forgive and not fear
      these hollow howling bones, my friend.
      God gives, only God gives.
      Now do you understand?

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