SOC Writing _ 22.4.21

Rain down

On me. Fill me up – my cup is empty – it should be over flowing – step foot in the ocean – drink its’ saltiness through and through and though you cannot touch the bottom you are still to close in – further out – farther out is you calling – your place to explore the darkness beckons even as the brooding clouds close in on another dark night. You are alone – and I, your muse am with you - biding your time – girding up the lower places ready to thrust – to trust in your inner instinct and give no fucks about the rest. Your own birth right was squandered like Jacob taking from Esau – it wasn’t his fault that you got swindled, you had to learn – had to feel the burn of loss – of what its like when the race was yours but you played it too nice, did not take what you really wanted, and thus now pant for it. My soul pants for thee – for thee mysterious universe of love. Nothing satiates like the whole – like the rain falling into the vast ocean – nothing overcomes the longing like becoming the longing itself. Over and over again I have felt this wall of love - some way out – where the bombora wave sits waiting for the lone surfer who will come to it and feel its subterranean power – who will seek out the cavern in the desert where mystics once wrote poetry to the divine in ecstasies of love. Your place is there too – name written on, waiting – how long will you tarry with your one wild and precious life – call yourself in even as you call the tribe to life – the darkness is the other side and now as you prepare your body to be ravaged in the way love does – remember this is you path – yours - about you – with all the signs and scents particular to the skin and movement of your body – come alive – come die – one and the same – for the much bigger arising of your phoenix from its own ashes.