kilroy: (Default)
I feel the limits with my fingers:
the chains of circumstance
that bind me to these walls,
this life.

They are unyielding, bitter, solid--
and I seem made of salt tears
in this cold place.

But if I am tears then I am water,
and water knows
that there is never one way, one shape;
water always finds a way.

No one will release me from this cage.
But cages are built to hold the strong,
and I am only water.

I fit my finger to the keyhole,
let myself turn,
and I am free.
kilroy: (Default)
The world is vast,
and every grain of it pulls me
endlessly downwards.

My body is small,
my muscles weak--
to fight the world is impossible.

Yet I rise from my chair.
kilroy: (Default)
We carry our burdens,
manufacture joy,
fight disappointment,
and forget
that we are not the world--
until we are pierced
by a single unsought moment.

One glimpse of fathomless everything.

It is the blessing of knowing
that where the unexpected happens
there is always the possibility
of change.
kilroy: (Default)
I am alone between two moments,
wrapped in the illusion of stillness.

Here there are no triumphs,
only empty memories.
Here there is no future,
only distant silence.

Here there is only vast, unknowable nothing;
no sound but the echo of my own voice.

When I speak, my words become the world.
kilroy: (Default)
In darkness there is the winter wind:
the clarion snap
that awakens the lost,
abjures the wasted,
and respects only purity.

Feel it blast through you,
scouring your breath
until only flame remains.


kilroy: (Default)

November 2016

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