scream

how piercingly our convictions abandon us
when in the dark dark forest of war, of a troubled neighborhood, of wild mountains
simply the nightly void
suddenly stones crumble with a roar a hundred meters up the trail
or the trail is washed away by downpour
a sudden storm collapses
or waves knock any surface from under my feet and hands
anything I still cling to

what truth will I manage to think of
how to condemn myself
falling from a vertical cliff
and realizing how rarely lately I trained my wings
how foolishly crammed with all sorts of nonsense of artificial answers to life
I did not check feather by feather
and now only a guttural cry from the throat

the falcon of my death is always on my shoulder
let it bite off pieces of skin to remind with tongues of pain
of the eternal sky the eternal darkness of the forest pine road

so I notice the color of the crumbling fragments of rock
how beautiful the eyes of a wolf, a boar, or an incredible monster leaping after me from the bushes
face to face

how pleasantly the saltwater holds me before filling me forever
how the world in its own particular way with all its splendor and power
loves me, my organs, even these empty thoughts
and invites me back into unity