The Ebbing of We

I.

I am an avalanche of
Mud & frost on your
Volcanic outskirts.

You sing through my chest;
Drip spirals that ring in
My burning tears.

I am a a statuette of
Colored sand with an
Arrowhead spine standing
Guard at your moat.

Your writing tablet,
your gavel, your gown.
Your ornament,
your ladel, your crown.

II.

You are a subtle aroma
When the seasons shift & the
Flash of agonizing clarity in the
Centre of a cherished remembrance.

What am I but fodder?
Devour me with white fire.
Cleanse me with brutality.
Scream my stupor away!

You are mellow minstrelry that
Placates the frustrations of men.
You are pie of mincemeatonement that
Fills my satchel of guilt.

I am glad now & weep for life with release
Like a baby gasping its first breath
I am stunned by grotesque lights
Which suffocate the sensitive.

You build & dismantle me
With coarse & fine grains.
I am a sequined hourglass.
I am the steam from a porridge bowl.
I am humus at the bottom of a compost heap.

III.

Throw me again upon parchment,
Ridicule my inkstain heart,
Guffaw my fruitless spleen.

Scintillate my burdens,
Ruminate my pigment.
Adjust my hue with a keen glee!

Cast me into the sun-ocean,
Blinding sea of psychedelic magma that
Eats my skeleton. Drag my helical entrails
Through a purple wormhole and
Liquefy my spirit,
Sublimate my soul.

Then I can ebb in & out of you
Freely, like a transcendent jellyfish.
I'll be a mistborn summit through your
Steppes of blue & auburn.

Written by
Hive account@d-pend
10/5/17