Paws meet crunching ground
as raw instinct surfaces –
The closest ones are the furthest.
Yes, I talk about stars –
though I know nothing of astronomy
or space science.
Though I may not know it,
I may be the furthest away
from this Earth right now.
Or I wish to be the furthest star from here,
because Earth is too lonely a place
and I’d much rather find real solitude,
and seclude, myself.
Collecting all the things that shine
in a journal that neither can be opened
The journal hangs its legs over the cliff of a shelf,
Threatening to jump into the jagged spines of greed
There she goes: wings limp and ugly and flailing
The jagged spines of greed below ready to greet her
and claw out her torso
Their fangs bleed into her, soften the impact,
welcome her like a stain on a page.
Their breaths collide as they take turns to complete the welcoming.
She is haggard, empty and ugly –
She is betrayed, betrayed by her body
and sinful misuse of these words
and betrayed by the ones who touch her
and betrayed for the sacred sin that she is
for she betrayed the mirror that is the journal
and the journal shall not reach
the Gates of Heaven
as it cannot guard the secrets of the kingdom.
Racing under the Moon’s shadow
while owls whisper to the leaves,
and Midnight’s rabbits work work work
Nature’s garden weeps,
from time to time and time again:
whispering to her darlings
grow, grow, grow…
Then the magical beans prosper
and defend their mighty ground
where the rabbits and owls can lie peacefully.
You can hear Midnight’s garden
Souls converging to one:
beat, beat, beat