If I live by the light, then I know it’s all gonna keep on finding me,
She will find me, more life will find me, that jolt of pure energy and momentum will find me, All will be dancing inside of itself and further still, like Russian dolls made of jewels and dreams, made of sweat and steam, we hung like rocks turned to sand and rivers into sweet, salty blood streams….
Oh, how much life is waiting to get tapped into at all times?
To excavate one’s own self from the parts grown stale and still pulling the sails taught, into the great unknown where everything’s new, and yet familiar,
finding this state of recognition, of peaked awareness,
where there’s a drop of terror pushing, throttling down just right.
And these brilliant bodies should never go to waste.
Yes; just like her face and her smile and those deep dark eyes that go back so far,
Back some where ancient and royal, back some where simple and fulfilling
back into the fertile grasslands and the sticky honey combs.
So what could she tell me now?
Stories of winged cathedrals made of silver insect chrysalis?
how she emerged fully capable to kill for, and to clean her own young,
woven from a rare strain of spider silk, does her dress bite?
Tails of sauntering dinosaurs out by the boiling pools of life on hot sub-tropical nights…… that movement lassoed my thoughts like a great storm batters a monolith.
Her elongated limbs scraped the future down into the dirt.
And the combinations to the secret locks are painted on jellyfish skin.
Is it her fingers dripping warm gold again on to my forehead?
Is all just my own imagination?
What is making this life,
glow so intensely?