Plethora

Airy sweetness,
deep inhalations, deeply held
breathing bones are truly alive.
Although the achings return
always, like hungry snakes,
a yawning ball of light
is revolving and grows,
ever bright,
devouring the darkness,
defaced by the snakes,
yet undeterred.
When the storms subside,
it is time to
release the sickening grip
and assign symbols to your
sorrows, gently gazing into the needles
and breathe the air
like you were buried
at sea,
a thousand years ago.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s