Anti-Gravity

Art by Dan-Ah Kim

Once again . . .

The promise of sanctuary.

The insolence of perfectionism.

or, should I say

the sanctuary of perfectionism?

Whatever I name it,

it beckons.

This time, I decline the offer.

I no longer constrict myself.

no more armor.

Instead, I crack myself and 

open wide the mouth

of the wound.

what pulls me, now?

I am inclined towards

the quiet wonders

that sit before me

in silence and listen.

what do you want me to say?

In the space between us,

the softness glistens

like stardust.

I can cry, if I want. I can let

the image reflected in my eyes dissolve . . .

like millions of undulating raindrops.

But, I cannot lose that image.

Or, can I?

what pulls me?

Nothing is permanent.

Not this.

Not anything.

I sit it out. Let it pass.

let it go.

The heavens are here.

Stars. Stars. Everywhere.