Tetra

I’ve been standing in my own way long enough. Shame, guilt, and struggle. Shovel, burn and bury it on our riverbanks, with all the prayers of our saints. Can’t have growth without teardrops, loss, and blood stains.

Let the sun, sky, and rain steel them all away, drown gravitational sin into sandy dust, there’s no rush, whispers the oracle come what may. My starborn carbon sets my journey on its way, fixed and moulded to a compass that makes me stay.

I stay bright, despite, the darkness delving, devouring, washing over me. Battling between sunrise and tarred feathers sticking to me, behold Venus and my waxing crescent, flittering between I’m good and will I together, ever be?

My imagination stretches wide, all and nothing at the same time.  Can I have the life playing out in the suburban beats of my blinded mind? Is that my third eye? Or my sub conscious writing painted lies?

Exhausted. Repetition for forgiveness, mercy and the most kind. Remembering the sound of my soul and my divine intertwined. Echoes written into the bark of my bones, embers derived from another time.