Reveries of Heresy

Why would a being with bones forged in supernova, stardust rippling through her veins, need a planet to orbit her gravity; a watchful sentry to keep her safe? Why would a boundless ocean, depths darker than nightmares, need an anchor to tether, or a dam to hinder her; a bejewelled cage masquerading as home? To be loathed is to be lissomely liberated; to be rejected is to be reverently rerouted; to be abandoned is to be embraced in inner authority and authenticity And in that knowing, unearth the sacred North Star within, reunite with your old friend from the womb of your tomb— a teardrop merging with the ocean, returning at last to yourself, the home you’ve always cradled within

The tiger, pacing back and forth, wears down tracks in soil beneath its pensive paws Who is truly the prisoner— the beast in this simulated wild, confined by barbed edges, or the onlooker wandering an infinite expanse, indelible grooves in her mind carved by relentless rumination— until thought itself becomes a beast: The king of the jungle, crown inked in bold black strokes, abased to a spectacle, a harlequin to behold Does taming these thoughts mean snuffing out their majesty, or making them kneel before the king— that testy, tempestuous thing? And yet, when the cloak of darkness descends, would the tiger’s amber eyes gleam as a North Star, illuminating the way to truth beyond these barbed horizons?