a crack in plato’s cave

I was confirmed on a dark night of the soul. As the force of my feet shook rocks capside, my ultimate self nodded softly and sadly in agreement to that phrase: “not in this lifetime.”

and we all wept.

The man in the mustard fedora faced away from me in a night terror on my birthday, telling me something in a silent language that only makes sense inside of a sphere of onyx.

while my body remained locked immovable, my spirit became hyper-aware as the blind can sense a sneakered starer from twenty feet away. thirty if they’re watching.

i woke up out of a dream one morning two months later and felt the miscarriage of the fantasy child that i didn’t even know i had. and then like an elephant

or a crow

i cried a little as i felt my cat’s little cool feet walk across my body

and her moist tongue washed me back to the morning.

at the root of a coconut tree i was left to my lonesome by my comrade, like a mother justifying.

“this will be good for them.”

or like a guru, “through suffering comes truth.”

or like a son, “this is for all of those times you abandoned me before.”

but mostly like a gull, who, not having to tell his brothers that he loves them, is deeply integrated into that rule of self-sufficiency.

he who finds the oyster first…

and there’s no malice for the speckled from the smoked.

the raven told me i didn’t have to cling to grim death.

his eyes shot a grappling, a striving toward the donkey wheel into me.

his feet held steady and his talons stung my arm like a tattoo.

he told me that the lesson would be worth it and i was reminded of the fallacy of heaven,

that ridiculous empty promise for martyrs and weakened dreamers.

but Strength fell onto the table and told me that after giving birth to cubs a lion must know that work must be done before they can hunt together.