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Surrender |
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Fiction |
It's not always in the brightness of the moon's face that I find my own instant fullness and gasp in awe; it's also in the dirty yellow of its crescent, its twin fangs staring me down from above, daring me to seek meaning where I'm afraid to find beauty. The moon taunts me, gauds me, drives me to seek shelter in shreded places of my heart. The moon chases me through dead paths paved with pearls of yestermemories concealed behind pillars of gray stretching endlessly into a thousand morrows. My heart sinks so low in sorrow it touches the bottom of the earth, threatening to disappear into the abyss within its darkly womb. I'm running, running, running in circles of screaming fog that blur the beam shinning feebly from another broken spirit. Search me! Search me O star of midnight's surrender and scatter these shards of my soul asunder! In shrouds of sunlight inter these shells of my temporal existence and set me free from this garden of thorns in autumn bloom. Breath, who are you? |
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Mkawasi Mcharo Hall |