Confessional

The struggle of days unraveled me until I sailed high and on fire,

ruffled and unwrapped by warmer winds and hot stars.

The quiet parts of me became louder as my searing flight

rocketed me away from a deep and ingrained sadness.



How long I cast myself as a wounded beast

or some untouchable thing that couldn't know itself.



Even under thunder when I was most certain of my own existence,

there was still time and history which muddied the single path

and filled my hollow bones always with water

so that I only became one with the days of rain

and never swam out towards my self.



I watched with my oldest eye the things above me and my hands sought to capture

the ghost of the moon.

My sacred winged inferno was extinguished once more

as another spring drowned me in it's water-arms.