Illuminating

Three hundred and sixty five days,
I have journeyed the depths of my earth,
tunneling down to and through subterranean landscapes
with their complex, interrelated structures,
hollowed ground holding up a deceptively robust strata.

Illuminating

Fifty two weeks,
I have touched the sun,
Icarus-like in flight,
my outer-skin wing relentlessly violated by violet red light.
Subtle scar tissue under a gossamer surface,
manifestly stark under intimate lamplight.

Illuminating

Twelve months,
I have heard the Valkyries roar,
a siren song for those wishing war,
I, tempted to join the chorus,
released a whispered counter-melody.
Subito disparendo, dolce, dolente. Pateticamente. Lunga Pausa.
My air doesn't flow for the gods' plainsong.

Illuminating

Four seasons,
Mars orbited my vision,
a kaleidoscope of fractal splitting and burning
brokenness at the red eye of the hurricane heart,
burning and cooling pieces enter my art,
the turbulence of beautifully poisoned atmosphere,
Marking verdant skin of she who loves with metals and scardust.

Illuminating

One year,
I have searched for heavenly spaces,
where rest is not bought, but found.
Herstory, the gently worn tapestry of cocooned solaces,
will no longer be hung, a fine execution of the heart, strung.
I will seek an ephemeral silk which won't fray,
but knots the sway hammock net that catches a new day.

Illuminating.