March 7, 2016

Self-Immolation

While it lasted
We felt light sifting through our dreams,
Bleeding through the irises of lonesome eyes
And finding some freedom in the space between spirits,
In the quiet between the fright of misunderstanding and the fright of attachment,
While it lasted.

Now we return to the forests we knew in our separate youths,
We press our ears to gnarled trunks and listen for the rush of silence inside,
We scrape the bark for the signs we once saw there.
We collapse upon decaying roots and let the wolves lick the blood from our eyes,
We forsake the sunlit paths,
We fumble for nails to ravage our flesh over and over.
We crucify ourselves to the rusted gates of forbidden kingdoms,
Our bodies splayed limp and pierced across the beams,
Barring our entrance.
Our failure grasps at redemption.
We savor the impossibility of escape, we relish our unworthiness.

I begin to wonder if the light was light or merely a trick of light,
A cosmic sham burning with the gases of a thousand wished-upon stars,
Candles imprisoned in subconscious shrines, guttering and dimming
And hissing into smoke, the flame to dust returned
As we wrinkle and toughen beneath reeling years,
As other candles blow to mist above frost and sugar.
We burn and burn and burn no more.