i’m running out of time
i’m out of step and
closing down and
never sleep for wanting hours
the empty hours of greed
and uselessly
always the need
to feel again the real belief
of something more than mockery
if only i could
fill my heart with love

– The Cure – “Closedown”

The religions of the heart
False messiahs
Loaves and fishes
A dime a dozen.

I used to believe
With the simple logic of
That where there was a space there was
a missing piece.
That gaps spoke brokenness
That I could be healed.

The heart is a true believer
she waits
patient like a supplicant
or a besotted lover.

How simple how…
The truth:
The architect is in love with
interstices, motes where demons drift
the essential tension of the spheres.

To speak plainly:
There is no missing piece.
No angel of mercy, no
blessed completion.
The incompleteness is the whole
The tension is the sculpture
The emptiness is the fullness
The ache is the lesson
Longing is strength
Loss is wisdom
And I am forever yours in anguish.

To speak more plainly still:
I bleed to blush the cherub’s cheeks
This is a holy calling
No queen to my king, no
Novel redemption.
I am as much the space between
as the arid edge.
these are the seasons of my soul:

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One Comment

  1. That is absolutely beautiful, babe!

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