Still in the heart of the sting

the sting of the heart

it pulses in waves
as the wound attempts to mend

rather difficult when…

betrayal every night in visions
and then again upon each morning

the process unfolding
with hidden invitations to forget
but not before watching the memory over again

wanting to understand
the dark edges
and what they represent

confusion boils
needing to vent

then begins to settle
but not without hiccups

returning to the familiar cell
huddled around damp logs
trying to keep warm

still reaching out for something
that may have never been there

loyalties dissolving
identities blurred

intuition correct
consequences ever left to ingest

protected by friends
except for an obvious few
violently breaking bonds

connections burned

the wound now bandaged
and itching

starting to close
closing to open

still thinking aloud
as images haunt
and continue to expose
the depth of what was lost

this struggle is one within now

Calling out the condition of your insides

let it be heard
by those who will listen

drift in and out
of your indecision

each return rewritten

guided into place
by that original-most vision

with time
dissolving the walls
between attachment and commitment

stick with it
but give it the permission
to change
even if it becomes
what ignites the changes in you

in the midst
of the burning
allow each flame
to melt away all that is untrue

We are all new people

trying our best

driven by visions

recording videos with our eyes
that playback differently each time

slowly disintegrating

just waiting for something to happen
just something waiting to happen

in that awkward stage between
being born and passing away

happy birthday
rest in peace

keep digging until the dig becomes a climb
keep listening until the noise becomes a silence
keep questioning until the questions become a knowing

all of our stories
perfectly unfolding

death in every goodbye

Looking back

every mistake made me
every dream pulled me
every illusion fooled me,
if only momentarily

warily I walked from mirror to mirror
for another look at my own face

desperately sought what was wanted
until it was not

latched onto moving trains
forgot where I wanted to go

remembered then

headfirst I wandered
into the unknown


It feels as though I make my way
through massive rock
like a vein of ore
alone, encased.

I am so deep inside it
I can’t see the path or any distance:
everything is close
and everything closing in on me
has turned to stone.

Since I still don’t know enough about pain,
this terrible darkness makes me small.
If it’s you, though—

press down hard on me, break in
that I may know the weight of your hand,
and you, the fullness of my cry.

- Rainer Maria Rilke
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