Rising Waters

152

Tonight She is silent, still, unending. Falling across waters.

Hidden for a decade, but always known with big, bright eyes. It is such a curious flaw of the human condition that some thing can stand before us daily, and as it bores a hole in us with its stare we look on, we take the laser-pain as if we do not feel it, we let the thing loom.

We are great pretenders.

And when we fall across our rivers constructing bridges that finally move us away from the poisons we’ve lived by, still, in the flesh there is resistance. We feel a thing missing, but we will acquiesce no longer.

We are the thunder now- She is the thunder now- lightening beams of love to tear up the world around us that acted as a tabernacle we could not pray in.

It is not pretty, when we fall across our waters. It does not gratify the mind in any immediate way, but the beauty of the soul alights in the truth of the process.

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