one escapes the body to find her form
and asks, what can I give to you, love?
to catch a current of blood and fly
back to salt tears singing all that makes
such reckless reaching so despised,
to keep on with her flayed and wild
drumming, to dance beyond repair
into some manner of light that will
resist all explanation.
And one hopes that when revelation comes it does not offer false hope.
Thought-provoking words.
Thank you, Chris. I share this hope.
Flayed and Wild. Oh to be so free. Beautiful my friend
Thank you, Alex : )