ORaCLE
My oracle: Oh my, how the light fractures you, Every piece, ray, atom, distorted under the river’s rushing surface, Yet the river knows everything that is and does not wait for that which isn’t. You are an obscure entity, An omniscient being, A goddess that drowns and pulls asunder, An empress whose palm holds my destiny. I see you. When I come too close, You glimmer like the moon: Merciless, lightless, A siren burning in your barrenness. My admiration halts me in my depiction of your essence, For I hold not the ability to articulate the bounds of your power. You drag me backwards, A frightening creature, alien and malign, Something dark and all-consuming. Siren: You soak my soul and seal my fate, You open my mind, Purify me, And submerge me. I come up anew, Ready to bloom, Seeking my answers, Longing to see between the lines as I gaze upon you. I see you. Watching beyond the creek, through broken branches and brittle leaves, How beguiling your energy of knowing, Being. It brings me warmth, the fractured light shining as the river embraces you. I no longer wish to see you. I hope to feel you In my blood, my brain, my being, All formed from clay and earth, Rushing slow and heavy like the blossoming of a flower. There is an allure illuminated in the shimmer of your existence, A bliss that persists inside of you, Infectious to those who run about the meadows. It strikes me deep. I become the very ether of acceptance, Waiting for it like the solstice. I die and am reborn and seldom sit, Shredding pieces of my soul like someone else’s skin, Spinning a silk cocoon of golden thread. It shines with rebirth as I wind and wound and heal, Bursting forth from my chrysalis That I will outgrow time and time again. Like the cycling of the seasons, I am new, Often unsure of when to turn over my leaves, Often untrusting of sweet suns. I settle down in the cloak of my feelings, Floating silently within myself, Meditating in the luster of my storms. I harbor the energy of good and bad. I know myself and celebrate myself. I become naked, one, and still with the movement. I bloom.