The heart of creation lies in darkness

Open hearted
in a sensual world,
Where cuts and bruises
cause no pain,
Rather a sacred recognition:
In grief there is liberation,
A torrent of colour,

As a creature of feeling,
Not thought,
Is it madness
to sit in darkness
with a smile on my face?

Have you contemplated the notion:
It’s not light that connects us,
That when your pulse races,
And your chest feels both tight and swollen,
It could be love,
Or fear,
Only if you care to name it,

In the absence of both,
What would your racing heart tell you?
Pay attention,

Can you face destruction?
Because somewhere we mistook
immortality for permanence,

The stars know this,

Do they burn merely to bring light,
In a world of mirrors and reflection,
Or because there is no creation
without destruction?

And if there’s truth in this,
how can you be different from a star,
a raging fire,
If they’re the source of all you are?

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