Oh poor and lonely desert child, where are the lines drawn in this fickle sand? You knew no boundaries.
Fearlessness was admired, but when they clung, you let them draw blood and with eyes closed they feasted.
This is the end of an era, the closing of a chapter. I feel my body release in defeat. In the great struggle against odious desire. I feel the wanting slip away, and slither back to shadow.
As the light expels, it enraptures me. Silent. Deadened for resurrect, I push through my mortal coil...
to embrace the sweat of tenacity and perseverance. To hold in my arms the simplicity of what for so long I avoided. Ordinary, stillness, presence and patience.
There are no colors to paint my face with. And those that come to me with masks cannot stand the heat of my embrace, the intensity of my gaze. They shudder, I thunder and with shame they grimace. Their own self-loathing imprisons them in compulsive doing. Round and round they go, causing havoc in their grief.
But not to me. Untouchable to me. Pain and pleasure alike are not for me to diagnose nor to discover.