dance the fruit

a fragile strand.

the nimble spider’s thread.

trans parent tinsel

once binding, yet

i am reweaving it again.

*

heart connections hidden

buried in art boxes, titles, and organic

member ships.

I feel, i breathe,

and so begin again.

*

Love true? imbalancing act fell through.

net not needed.

thats how it all began.

*

fall fall, fall down.

there is no end.

momentarily disconnecting, back to

Truth,

the space within.

*

finding comfort in death and darkness,

wherein Hel begins.

A goddess, (which?)

crafting and creating from her fiery womb;

a tomb for each realized illusion

and faulty karmic equation.

*

awareness bound through

the supple belly.

softly moving, rising,

guiding breath in.

*

the breath we share,

in that space, we

dance there.

*

seduce yourself, get high

on whats given

and dance the fruit

of next season.

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