there was so much death
rattling me to my core.
there was no surviving that
quake. it shook every piece of
me lose. I floated away, my image
dissipating as though I be a fine
mist over a hot flame. that was
the end of the me that I made.
when I rose out of that hot hell
I was unrecognizable. many fled
my presence. I stood on a new
foundation. Solid. Myself. and
even those that returned, seeking
me, could not see Me through My
new mantle. they turned forlorn,
long faces set in dismay, and I watched
as they retreated back to their own
illusions. Death is a fine thing. an
unwrapping of old tales. an
undoing. how hard we’ve worked
to create such a lie as one life lived.
I slapped myself so hard, I shattered
my own mask, Unleashing the great
Fire that had been smoldering beneath.
it was as though I Be a god
set ablaze within an untamed Eden,
rotten apples strewn at My unsoiled feet,
and the echoing sound of My
own laughter as it charred the garden
back to the dust from which I came.
~~ who put the fear of god in you? who made you afraid of your own Self?