This thing you call Love,
This thinning layer of quicksand
Running into widening chasms
Between grinding tectonic plates-
This is what informed my mind
This, that shaped itself into dragons
This, in pursuit of which I fell
Into a blessedly final circle
Of ever-growing grace, of protection
From even my own jagged visions.
It squats in its small dark tunnel
Sucking into itself light and life
Vomits out acid-tongued curses
Of contempt for all that escape it-
Each year shaping what might have been
Into fungus forms of self-replicating
Discomfort, self-perpetuating blindness
To the warm, affection of the sunlit
World still spinning, singing, dancing
Around, above, even below to its own bright music.
Out here children laugh and race the sun.
In the open air even crones and magi dance.
They’re easy to see, easy to hear and even join.
They’ll have everyone who can see them
They’ll celebrate anyone who can still smile.
Judge them and they run away laughing.
And here without a smudge of state sits their king:
He whose scepter is made of red-striped candy
Which he values only by how much he gives away,
His hand forever open to the tiny paws of children.
Come out from under your bridge of moaning.
He will show you how to love him and yourself.
He will give you the mirror he uses to show
Others how beautiful they are under their skin.
You will learn in him a fresh universe of yourself
Filtered through an outward-facing, flowing love.
You will learn real power, real visions of a world
Where everything you know is upside down and made of gold.
In that world your imperfections shine like jewels
So come out and live in this golden air if you can.