it is so hard
to find a path
through memory,
the jungle of pain
this is a law,
we know what hurts
better than joy past,
trying not to get burned
we lose all precious
moments inside
and must work
to find the light
standing at the shore
of emptiness, the
beginning of time,
now, we are the demon
who walks with us
and lets us see monsters,
their grimace a warning,
a signal we carved long
ago, they are not real,
we are as we are not,
sometimes it is a choice,
enter or obey fear
push ahead, burn signs, climb
through this maze,
cut the threads of spiders
and disentangle us
from memory loaded
with torture and tears
weighing us down
until we rise and
the wind will touch us
now. and now.
the mask has fallen
and our naked heart
can take seed again
and sing, fragile,
impermanent. we will
be hurt again, rising,
we will grow new bark
and shoot in greens
out of ashes and coal.
may this be our way.
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