i have arrived at my altar. hark!

i rise, i flourish,

i pirouette on my one toe and float like a prayer.

this is my triumph; the issuance of mornings,

how they roll out to the percussion of a pulse.

to what does one ascribe these complexities?

for twenty years, all of life, cradled by a pair of parentheses,

crackled in the bones of some equation;

certitude quietly burrowed itself under folds of skin.

verily had i exhausted my set of sure events.

in the canopy of my youth, i counted holes and not enough sheep.

O arithmetic, you brute! i wrung you out my fingers that night.

thus came the spring in which i heaved like the ocean.

one thousand faculties hurled atop a giant wave;

when it broke, i broke so carelessly with it.

the heart, wont to crucify, fluttered dirges and ate the moon.

i shelled out a vein, a puff of life yet to be snuffed out;

i sobbed, i survived my torched Thornfield.

i prostrate; i am no longer rocked by the tremor of emotion.

here i design, here i dwell in stillness and embellish inwardly.

O Providence! you stir, you hum, you consume like a lone poem.

and so it is: in my palms rests a love that does not torment.

i shatter, i conquer with a syllable. this is my beginning.


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here