cracked sky – revisit

I gaze upon the painted sky; it cracks.

I press against the hoar-rimed horizon,

so cold and biting. I strain to see through

but am allowed only a furtive glance;

a peek at another world. Mystery

and shadow – I see my dreams through the crack.

.

I flatten myself against the dome and

struggle to slip through the hole in time, o’er

gossamer borders spun ‘twixt life and dream

as the icy kiss of the bounding wall

warns of edges sharp from fractures honed,

cold claws that reach and rend my mortal flesh.

.

Through action wary, misplaced though it be

I fail to mark the cruel blade sliding

into my belly, piercing through my ribs,

until the point rests just within my heart.

my lifeblood’s warmth over my body spills,

a mask to the glass bite raw, elation.

.

Into my mind through mist of shock-numbed pain,

disbelief of thought, “What has just occurred?

what trick of dream-disguisèd sense is this?”

Though to the earth I drop in pain of wound

aknee across confines of worlds apart

I fall owned, part of each, by neither claimed.

.

My form just short of dreams cast down, I hear

the serenity songs through branch of tree

and peace of moon called forth, “come now to us”

Sweet voices of a thousand birds cry out,

Come fly with us, through mystery unveiled,

panoply vista of sight enchanted.”

.

I make to lift my breaking style, weak now

through loss of blood I retch in painful breath.

from just below my chest strikes out cruel blade

nearly hilts-deep into my belly thrust .

Upon the pommel resting light – a hand,

the trembling mother of this grievous pain.

.

The very form of grace and beauty warm,

How I long to stroke this exquisite hand

To touch and to be touched upon the face,

please let the caress come to end this pain.

Violent sobbing jarring my bladed chest,

through agony forceful, my tears are dried.

.

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Bubble

A bubble,
Delicate,
Ephemeral,
I float and dance,
Carried on the wind
Yet not her plaything –
Guided and suggested,
I glide.

I fear to stop,
For I am weary.
Rising again
Will be laborious.
But oh how I long to pause,
To rest a moment in the warmth of the sun,
To taste again of a gentle breeze.

I will stop –
Tomorrow,
Most certainly tomorrow.

Now I must press on.

Thoughtless Blink

I blink,
Lethargic shutters make a gradual slope
From light to thought,
Or to that state where thought once lived,
That place to which thought will soon return –
Return to cloud the present
With mask of knowledge
And of mystery –
Illusion and form.

There is no thought now,
Only pain,
Sharp at the core,
Fading to a dull ache at the edges,
Shaded with dry fatigue.
Or,
Perhaps the fatigue
Is colored by dim pain –
I can no longer discern,
Not in this place.

From here I can see myself,
Watch a slow animal drag its way through the world,
Floating and tasting and touching,
But never sharing,
No, not sharing.
This form occupies a space,
Both are illusory,
And this pain-clouded thoughtlessness clears the vision.

I can relax.
Consciously absent.