We have moments, moments of revelation beauty. Shiver moments keeping us humble. Life is a series of unforgettable and regrettable moments. What is one to do? We breathe, heads to the ground, panting like dogs to stay awake in a world that is asleep. We are the radiant dead, basking in the glory of the sun that we call our own, like we could own something so unattainable, like love or death or hatred. You may kill to create but that makes you no god, just dust. All is back to grey matter, in the end. Light is stifled out of us as we try to measure up to a society that would whore us out to the lust hungry anyway. And people call me dark. My dark is just a different reality than the one you live in. Your hollow words and actions, your dank whispers and promises that you never kept, swept under the rug like everything else. Your love means nothing since I knew that you had nothing to give in the first place. Bastard beauty makes you no better than anyone else.
I hated the you that I saw in myself. Mirrors were to hard to look into, shallow breath, cuts from the earth that birthed you, bleeding and sputtering. I was not like you. I saw wings on my angels, real pieces of heaven walking on this earth. You were caught between death and dying spirit. I was the reborn flower, the seed that refused to take your water and spat it back out, poison that is was. I will go dry before I let you run me, own me as you said you owned the moon. But I knew her better than that.
Moon says she laughs in your face and she does your dance before she rams the sharp blade into your thick skull, not to live for long, awake and unafraid. Torrents of tassels hurt my sleep. She moans and arcs her beautiful back into ecstasy, hair in her face. She is fully in that moment, forgetting the bed under her, the pillow at her head, the girl over her whose hands give her this communion with the four walls, the house, the street, the town and all its people. In this moment, we are all called to live it with her. We are to feel her beauty, her lust for another breath, her closeness to the earth and the heaven and hell that walk this ground place, this holy hallowed precipice. It is like we have closed our window blinds eye to the world, shutting out the lightning that makes our world bright, even if for a second.
All we need is a moment. A moment to keep us going.