May 7 2019 — Lena Cole

Why do I crave the

Arms of another

Wrapped so tightly around, feeling enveloped,

So then I can feel truly held

Why do I desire

The gaze of a lovers admiring eyes

As I melt into the caves buried within

These cellular walls

Struck from their true connections

Creating desolate and disparate projections

Rather that flowing and careful webs of interconnected lessons

Of love in its evolution of self

In the classroom of holding expressive explosive tides as they shake the structure of life and create knots in the intricately woven threads and tie instead

To the craftiness of dread of fear of the rocky waters and fiery rivers

All the while forgetting that this tumultuous sliver and glimpse into the webs windy ways lays a trinity of perfected danced out pathways

Each points towards a recourse

Replay, forward, stop and ignore

Every choice a tale

Let the old narrative play or invent a new way

To come at the same people

To create a comment, so simple

To watch the judges and who’s at the table

To remark the remarkable inexplicable nature

Of the tales in the mind

The stores supplied by

The energies alive

In ones mind

In ones behind

In the subconscious

Rambunctious

Wanting to be seen

See how angry you’ve actually always been

They taunt and they tease

Treading lightly

Holding all the creative capacities

The sensory obligatory release

The feelings all wound into a hole reaching seemingly into eternity’s endless leash

You,

Outside

May no longer have permission

To control

My hole

The pole

Of the opposite force to behold

My reactive flare

To be mirrored

A reflective echo chamber

Of the power

Of fire on fire

An endless cacophony and rager

Instead

Planting a new seed in my soil

One of balanced poles

And filled up holes

A harmoniously

Floating

Ballet

Of swirling bright planets

And a symphonic melodic cannon

Breaking through chaos’s illusory fuel

Into the bliss of the ether

Of every plane held in its perfect demeanor

Of every place there once was inflammatory nonsense

There is no will superimposed

Simply surrendered to the

Great central sun

I become

Transposed

A great honey bee

Growing ever grander a hive

And ever more alive

A universe

A tree

Living in the sublime