Taking Form

Suppose perfection is an infinite rock,

shapeless

and lacking individuality.

 

We only take shape when each a piece shattered

and dispersed

from the very center of the universe. 

 

Tumbling into and carried along,

bounced

in and out of the river.

 

Entries and exits of other fragments

taking us

in and out of the river

 

of newfound dreams and collisions. 

 

To only gain beauty when we can harness

what it means

to be a flood plain stone - to be weathered.

 

By the rain, yes. By the pour.

By the run off and all it's hell.

But, also, by the sun.

By the touch of another.

And the breath of an intimate whisper.

Oh, feel it.

Be still with her and listen.

 

For shape is a gift,

take form.

 

When we come to accept that we cannot

be everything,

we start to truly develop form.

 

Yes, we only take our own shape when ego's shattered,

and dispersed,

when we embrace the given weather,

hold it close and except it as lead dancer.

 

Shape is a gift.

And though severe turbulence,

like the hurricane,

spins the cycle of life,

perhaps it does

so that, for all,

there's a season

to take form.

 

Otherwise,

there is ample space,

for all of our slingshot orbits 

as new rocks break off

from the centrifical

to exist, to explore

to find friction

to spark each other,

to take form.

 

A fine line

separates

us from hellbent collisions.

When breached, lips frequent

cursing the gift,

though hexed

by someone

having rejected

taking form.

 

Driven by desire

to be the infinite

rock, plowing through the roadway

of every soul.

Trying to shovel up

and anchor, cement

everyone

to build what they'll still

never become.

 

I suppose I could reject

being weathered

by the wind.

Yes, by the rain, as well.

And by the run off, and all it's hell.

But then I'd also surrender the sun.

Surrender the touch of another.

The breathe of an intimate whisper,

I'd suffocate just to shout down.

But why would I do that?

And I won't.

For shape is a gift,

and that is how

I've taken form.

 

The breathe of an intimate whisper - Oh, feel it.

Be still inside and listen

to your movement,

to you taking form.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

 

Just words that came to mind after reading and taking in Rachel's fine work, Atlas, Sisyphus and Lucifer.

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