"yet to sing love, love must first shatter us." - h.d. doolittle
perhaps now that i have been cracked, edged towards shattered,
i will experience the totality of this, your 'love.'
how cruel the gods must have been
to have thought love, capable for human consumption.
how cruel this dense universe
to make me belong.
were not flowers meant for rain?
spare me,
the gripping nature,
the death of creation.
i would much rather
be with out.
how easy space must feel,
left alone, without force, form, or pleasure.
No comments:
Post a Comment