February 5, 2016

Diamond Thread

For a moment you thought someone else
Could see the colors you see,
Painted on imagined cathedrals
Growing from the fused limbs of the forest
North of the back of your mind.

But anyone whose eyes
Can catch that shade of light
Seems to drift away behind some golden haze
That cuts,
Cuts away,
At your ability
To try.

Your hopes feel realer as hopes.
Your dreams taste better as dreams.
You lash out for a chance at melting all the faithless gold
And then you let it go.

Your words poison the unspoken seas of truest light
That have bled through rifts in furthest cloud,
Carrying you to the sightless wonder of unsatisfied longings
For distant lives
And trying to bind longing to longing,
Spirit to spirit,
Trying, trying,
To try.

So you begin to weave,
Weave diamond thread through your lips,
Because after the dribbling and clinging blood,
After the needle tearing your skin and purging you,
You find a little solace in the quiet,
In the blood-spattered silence,
In the emptiness starting to be filled
By something painful and new.

A fleeting split in the golden haze and nothing more.
A flash of dreamt up color in someone else’s eyes.
A resignation in your own.

Alone again.
Wondering if bleeding yourself is the price of freeing yourself.
Wondering if this satisfied emptiness
Is better than unsatisfied fullness.

You could ask for an answer,
But only once you find someone
Who can cut through diamond,
Who knows how to speak
Without rupturing the silence.

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