Monday, August 18, 2014

Corpuscle's Partition

A beckon,
a shove
Such desire for the need to be washed
by your salty liquid

What is a touch?
The vibe of essence bumping atoms
The static hue
Embraced are we in the moment
Together do we stare above,
shouting to Gods of glory for this moment

You surround me,
hunting, groping me in all the right places
I shudder, I shrivel, I shriek
by your cool touch
I extend my nurture as you hold me
in your bowl of grateful adoration

Surging build that cannot be contained!
Filling, rising, deepening . . .
Alas, the joy of sweet release!
Back into the source from whence came this incipience

What's this?
A transmutation!
What sorcery! What curse!
The past is no more!
Footing is gained, liquid wings befallen
The scales have dropped,
so do these tears
Cruel preservation!

Why cannot I hold
the beauty you contain?
Your kingdom of sacred jewels!
The mysteries to which I will
now never know
Why must the pearl be extended from its core?

Where can we go?
The ground below is buzzing
The palpitating ache of separation
for the sake of union.
Why cannot I bathe in your hue for

Fear not!
I walk down this stretch of dirt
Distance is ever futile
I extend beyond this flesh,
and of my being you shall be
touched once more

In a place that has no space,
in a time which does not climb.


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