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Picture Credits:
Stars and bristling icicles
swirl in a hazy, screaming jubilee
deep within the chest
as spiraling fireflies of tingling curly cues.
An inevitable, inexplicable sluggish sigh
expels the aching, entangled spirit
from its fleshly vase of insecurity,
propelling it to the quintessence of marrow
upwards, ever hesitantly ascending
along a sagacious thread of ethereal staircase.
Inhaling the supplication of soul stirrings,
and intoxicatingly brushed by the angel’s billowy pillows
one is caressed with the vibrancy of lilting
as infants in dwelling,
toddlers in the shimmering journey
revived and reborn for the first time
from the dire malaise of pointless circle dances,
we migrate by destiny to that plateau
where only rainbows and lightning
taste the thunder.
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