The Storm

Ragged man,

Don’t let the mirror indulge itself on your heart,

like a cat playing with its prey.

Smash it with a bar stool.

Look at the world through the bottom of a glass and see it clearly.

Find the truth in your eyes, in the space where you end and the storm begins.

Stumble through the wind and icy rain,

vomit out the comfortable lies you tell yourself

and feel the discomfort of oblivion without wavering.

Crawl out to the precipice of your greatest fear–

Death

–and let love for another push you off the edge.

Now it’s nothing but a word, drifting to the earth

like a snowflake resting on brown oak leaves.

Now you are truly invincible, though you can barely stand.

O ragged heart,

Falling through time like a wayward raindrop.

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