Relaxing into joyful pleasure
feels like a jolt of electricity so great
that it floods me with apprehension and fear.
The beautiful melody of it’s charge
expels inner demons I didn’t know were there—
rageful dissonant junk, out through the rigid pores of my hard shell.
And it feels like knives coursing through my body.
One of which just might unknowingly puncture my lungs
into a primal scream of terror.
Or pierce my heart, letting out old heavy tears of bottomless generational grief.
My being contracts at the meeting of this pure love.
My pure love.
To truly be, alive in pulsation,
feels like I’ll have to strangle the eons of repression,
in a gruesome bloody battle, to the death.
I don’t yet trust that the joy might come
in the outbreath of simple surrender,
into an easy graceful motion, of which I’ve begun to taste glimpses.
For now it still appears to be a daunting endeavor,
just to simply live,
bathed in this love.
In gentle warmth.
This is what we all want,
I can feel it in everyone’s core, and in my own.
We wish to gently expand towards truth,
but we are often blocked, hidden in cages
of time that stands still,
looping.
The Depths of Light 