You might resist an appearance inside those flames
furious as screams leak into intuition.
You might ask for clarity upon a second before a life
decision is made towards existence.
You might stir crazy—pondering skies—to have essence
wafting over decades.
You might have excellence—some unphysical dimension,
at seconds, sadness—to arise, dust off feelings, become sheer theology, soaring
through galaxies, upon a memory, fretting insistence.
You’ve entered those regions, resisted as it grows,
stronger as it hurts; never a day in solace, ever a palace to run from, compelled
as we might trespass.
You might understand a weakness, crave resilience, beg
for planets to align; to grow into invisibility, pinpricks, exaggeration—as it
flourishes, shouting in silence, raving madness, something—we never sense.
You might never upon an actuality—only by ink, as far
as souls gather. Tone, surrender, to float inside, detached from body, exiled
for the mismatch.
