My waters are usually flat, serene, unmovable
They keep dumping their pollution
They create tsunamis, tempest, whirlpools
Instability
Then my own sadness
The touch of pleasure
The touch of freedom
The box is getting smaller
Or I'm getting bigger
Expanding
Craving transcendence
My heart is suffocating
It is exploding or imploding
It is a chaotic space
A space of creation
A space of destruction
It is a hell trying to transform into heaven
It is the burning and the dissolution
You can see its wings
The gold the red
The ashes the smoke
The pain the pleasure
The tears the stabs
The center bleeds
It bleeds then expands
It bleeds and heals
It searches, searches, searches
Found
It waits, waits, waits
Tuesday, April 10, 2018
Patience
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