Like the first waking breath after white light in a dream, so still it moves me
Pulling me out of a slumber so deep I press through the dirt that has settled in time
Like dancing blue heat on the forked tongue of fire, so captivating it frees me
Burning me down to the core of my being I rise from the ashes that dance in my mind
Like the mad karmic rush from a glimpse of satya, so subtle it surrounds me
Lifting me up to the heavens of earth I reach to the clouds that unfurl in my hand
Destined to reign in the heart of my world, this is love.
This. Is. Love.
About the Creator
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The Other Side
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. But you can certainly hear one from inside a cryo-pod—especially when it’s coming from your own mouth. Funny how they never say waking up after a hundred years in stasis is like experiencing the trauma of birth all over again. Because it is, only this time, you remember it.
By Erika Seshadri3 years ago in Fiction
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