Inspired by Roadkill and Roses

Clocks are either idle, or on speed
for me.
I feel like I'm on my way (or in the way) to (and of) something much more celestial
and immortal
than all of this,
than all of time.

And every time I'm fully present in this awareness,
this Voice in me (that sleeps for sometimes months at a time),
awakens.

It awakens on a soap box, with hungry eyes,
waiting to deliver another sermon.

It feels like a snake dancing in burlesque silhouettes,
It sounds like a battle cry that wretches and soothes in a twisted song both empowered and manifested
by a past of secrets, shadows,
and spiders (that wove nets my neck to force It silent.)

But no more. (For this voice has purpose).

And that purpose is to sing for the future of prey.
It aches,
to bless their minds with venom and steel tongues,
to nurture the innocent wisdom of the young
...( and of all prey).

I can only hear It, if I listen...
I do,
and It burns away my skull, branding sacred inscriptions on the backs of my eyes that whisper with intensity (as if to scream softly),

"We were paralyzed in our pain, but now eternalize yourselves in ecstasy.
I promise you that just as eternity exists in hell, does it also dance in heaven.
This is the paradox (the duality rather) of infinity.
Therefore create your own Eden, for no one will transform or transcend you for you.
If you merely wait to be saved, you will perish in your own starvation; a stagnant soul starves.”

So feed.