I used to wreck
on a regular basis.
Going off the rails
was my subversive way
of keeping things
under control.
Illusions
and mirages astonished me,
still do.
Something,
anything,
to hold on to
was my gutted mantra,
hollowed out
to catch void
and the fastest air.
I am learning to chant
a new chant,
one baby verse at a time,
slowed to where language
stumbles upon the earth
in my mouth
and above my head,
where ground is rent
to meet heaven
on its own shifting terms.
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Sounds like a perfect change of pace
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Yes, it is a ripening process, slower, deeper, different : )
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This is gorgeous, and a profound expression of something a lot of people could relate to.
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Thank you
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you are most welcome.
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