Shame and its Afterbirth

The primordial intuition shakes a fruit of perfection free;

It hides deep in the withering field of modernity.

Motes of the fire eternal from a fresh stomach glow -

Eyes that have witnessed all now denied what they know.

Blazing trumpets raze whispers from the air;

Their burst bellies spilling secrets in the soil.

A new perfume tosses the scent of the Earth -

A mind, a body, caught within lines of safety drawn before their birth

 

The howl of instinct haunts,

But ghosts cast no shadows.

The animal that stalks lives in your step,

Born one thing and becoming another.

Horns sit on the horizon

Atop every unanswered question.

On the shadow's shoulder of every good,

They tuck in corners for those who look close, beyond, and away.

The demand a whole be broken -

The wolf is denied your brotherhood, and its will is king.

The howl of instinct haunts,

But ghosts cast no shadows.

The animal that stalks lives in your step,

Born one thing and becoming another.

The howl of instinct haunts

in the depth of your regret.

A precious darkness deepens.

The beast chews at its trap,

Born one thing and becoming another.

The shape of one's nature steals a kiss from a slumbering cheek;

The child of its early morning song awaits her chase.

She beckons with a form withheld.

In the ripening silence of solitude, she speaks.

The demand a whole be returned -

The fires of self are never extinguished, only displaced.

A soul is refocused in the serpent's coil,

Born one thing and becoming another.