aquatic eyes ripple

grazed by the breeze

tantalized with textures of beautiful sunlight

but bearing distrust of illumination’s reach

and ignorance

[or denial?—

of what then lies beneath.


past the last drop of ray

the last whisper of this existence

past the waves of time and space

of supposed certainty and this content facade of klarheit

skepticism bars your way, but belief builds a staircase to the other side

disown your complacency, friend.

discard the stagnancy.

dislodge your battle-wounded heart

and let light seep into your scar-tissue shields

dissolve the pretense of protection

and let warm blood course over your hands

drip-drop it onto your body and read the tea leaves where it lands

you are not afraid of feeling

so take your reflections and let them lead you

past the last drop of ray

the last whisper of known quantity

past the riddled distrust and on to your deepest forgotten knowing

disown your complacency.

for the task lies clearly

right before you and has for the past ten years:

your reflection, your tool

your perception, your key

your depth, your gift

our potential, the truth

that woman gifted you a beautiful truth.

you don’t realize how deep you run

we none of us realize how deep we run

there's something of comfort in cloudy days: hugs hung from the atmosphere, buffers rested between us and the outside unknown. but problems ensue when we little humans construct our own little clouds for our own little lives - constructions of groundless fear, warptions of ignorant comfort loosely based in the gifts of atmospheric embrace.

Updated: Mar 29, 2020

when heart is lost the home strays gone. wandering the moors, the gray-skies, heathers and streams leading somewheres... they may lead home. but. the stars. they stray, too. their courses blanketed by clouds and the wind hushes gently leaving the wanderer penniless save for the heart and the chance of the somewhere stream.