I would like to sit in silence and I do. But I mean, there is only so much a person can take. Her fingers, her long fingers through my hair. I don’t wear shirts with skulls on them, I normally don’t dress in all black or chuckle like I know what’s up. I really don’t, I don’t instigate her at all, I try not to- but it happens anyway. And I guess you still don’t know her. It’s all so sexy and alluring while she dances in front of you, a body of fantasy, what you’ll get for coming closer and it’s this thrill, death kill cult, that maybe she’ll kiss you sooner than later- but I know you don’t know because you still smile when you see her. She’s dancing. Seductress. Wait until she gets on and takes you for a ride. You like the idea of riding her, the edge of nothingness night, sucking deeply. But it’s only an idea until you really know her- then it’s a mind shattering, body numbing flash that won’t die. I wouldn’t say bliss, orgasmic or enlightening. I’d say core piercing, holographic fusion of elements, elements that pull from every direction. Combustion- no. I don’t know. Implosion. No. I don’t know. From the center of this, I am speechless. I am only writing desperately clinging to words as my only escape from this thing that she does. I could never leave her heart, it was too big to find. This person. Who is this and why does it happen that we get stuck together only to get ripped apart. The torture isn’t our choice- and we go to it without even knowing the horror of the seduction. Inside. Until it’s over. Do we forget, remember, move closer. Become the big thing, I don’t know and that’s the enigma. Do we get taken, filled, eaten.
I don’t know. I am not sure where I am or how this happened. You all left me, shaking your head. Secretly watching. Of course you can’t stop. That’s what I do. I terrify myself as my very own body. Tempting body. Long warm body. Open arms of light. Lips and eyes and promises of completion. My pain is complete. And don’t take this wrong. I am open to bigness against even my own will. I am barely fitting myself in, this little me, behind it all, while she fills me.
Covers my face with hers. Looks at you through me. I didn’t mean to disappear. We don’t really get a choice. God, if you only knew what this was, you’d die in your sleep and not read this at all. You would be mounted. Otherwise. By the one deeper than God. Less of a flower, more like a thorn. Meaning yes, it hurts. Beauty isn’t free, can’t be watched. Must be embodied. The pain must be complete. The awareness must be unbearably acute. There’s no pain killer. There’s no me that can take away anything. She gives, can’t you see, she gives you the answer. “You are this,” she says as she spreads her fingers. And in that moment, it’s done. And we throb outside of ourselves as we knew, as far as a body could go and not deflate. As low as the earth’s inner darkness, so consuming. Of course it’s that deep. The yearning. The defilement. My home is in you. You who is beyond me. What I have to do to get inside your open black, is a blindness so far beyond eyes we can’t look either way. Within or without to get there. To her, she’s pulling it all towards herself and you’re watching. She’s unveiling herself. Revealing her body of torturous love, making us helpless. I can’t get up. Not anymore. Lay down. Lay your body down under the moon’s ghost. Holy Ghost moves through like it’s an electrocution. There’s no easy way once you arrive. Once you enter earth’s gates and expect to find whatever you thought you left. There is only death at the heart of it all, pumping blood. A blood so thick we get stuck, in her hot body. Contraction. A grip. The death we want. But that never ends. It’s a show stopper really. My love. Love means it’s over. Over for you. And so I don’t know of course, who I am at all. How could I? Maybe I could say it like this, the pain makes a sound that my body plays like a song until I die into the enigma of quiet. There isn’t any and yet what? It’s every secret, not just mine. It’s how I know your thoughts and see you in my mind. It’s the entrance into human entrainment. The funnel of her radiant eyes, or something like that. Profuse like some sort of rain that washes the light from the dark. The pain from the numb. The perfect pain, this immaculate diamond of the spheres. Her sound always playing. Just existing. I have no idea why. God, what does it even mean. The end of the song when you cry because it’s over and you remember who you love after all. It wasn’t any of this. It was just her eyes. Quietly seeing me hurt. With nothing to spare but my very own sound. Could I say, “soul on fire,” without sounding desperate- don’t pretend lightening isn’t real. It’s the only thing that is. So watch me, shock you back to life. My own. Aching bright. Everywhere, even here. Wanton and blissfully had. Silence playing with light making noises like skies that flash secrets that the dying birds then carry as words. Words that float and touch each other deeply, as you. In me. I can’t feel the pain, it’s too much. I can only be to become it, the beauty of the stars really…then I know you.
This. Sharada Devi