Both Halves of the Sphere

Both Halves Of The Sphere

Shannon Crossman Awakening Woman, Poetry, Transformation Tales 0 Comments

I once spent many moons trapped
in a nightmare from which I could not wake.
Thrashing through life, fueled by resistance.
Primed for flight.

Each place my eyes lit some fresh, new horror
eeked it’s way forward.
At the edge of breakdown,
Illusion snapped her silky fingers and I woke.

Do you know what it is, friend, to wander the world in such a state?
Self-cannibalizing and vacant, save fear who is your most troublesome bedmate?

On the other side of eating yourself alive is where life lives.

Which is impossible to ken when locked
within the arms of nightmare.

Yet the Beloved Self awaits the soft fluttering
that is the first glimpse of wakefulness.
Would scoop us up and pour us
into bliss, if only we’d allow it.

Having tread both halves of the sphere,
I can tell you life is fine here
where human & Divine regale each other with bawdy tales of
nightmares gone to seed and sprouting dreams.

 

previously published on The Urban Howl, February 2017

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