Starburst

I like to walk alone with incandescent
stars of lemon-yellow bodies sown with
prisms of blue, where I am moved to
tears by the experience of such beauty.

Plagued by all that consumes me with
its silence I see the illusion of fire and
realize it's not necessarily the silence, but
what silences that leaves me breathless.

I start to feel your presence, my sweet
love, lost to fresh waves of consciousness
that rip apart the most precious piece of my
life, forgetting I am the wife that adores you.

The black obsidian of Diana's eyes tells me
with frankness that the stars are unfit keepers
of a person's happiness. Is this why the
constellation of the Great Bear never touches
the ocean?

There is no water so still as that of stagnant
pools. My present state seals all prophecy of
good and evil, heaven and hell. I have become
the instinctive manifestation of all that was and
is to come.

In your starburst, in this illusion of fire, I tread
water coming to terms with the vulnerable woman
footing a spear. Fire and water so often opposed
meet as one with the remaining two elements of
air and earth, in a quality of mind where it is safe
to sleep.

Theresa likes to write about matters of self-inflection and personal experiences. She likes to write about matters of an out-of body, out-of-mind state, as well as subjects of an idyllic, pagan nature and the occult. Theresa writes horror, as well as concrete gritty and realistic dramas. Theresa is said to be witch and a poet. (within the horror writing community).

Find more by Theresa C. Gaynord in the Author Index.

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