If I had one thing to say to you
it would be forgive, forgive, forgive
only then can we begin to understand each other.
The red thread has been shorn in two.
Destiny is not a tapestry but a threat,
her immutable filaments serve only to veil.
My eyes-two bees pollinating-
grow heavy with what they have seen
ignorance is not always so innocent.
I have chosen occlusion,
the constellations will go on sparkling
whether or not I observe them.
One molecule at a time we fashion
our defenses, precise as a cuttlefish,
until there is nothing left to anticipate.
I have forgotten the lightness of movement.
The dirt flakes from beneath my fingernails;
the worms have grown fat while I slumber.
Don’t be so quick to kill me off,
to condemn, we are the same
whatever the difference in our affectations.
I have had some very heavy, stressful, and disturbing dreams lately. I am also sick possibly from the stress of those dreams.