Fables of a beautiful weakness

Tell this story tonight, worn on this face.
Tantric and telling like the birds in flight.
Showing much more than flesh and bone.
Keep it safe, snug in your pocket like a pebble.
Dipped in the gold that is spun from your eyes.
Hold tight.
On to me and all that we have to carry.
Refugees of a dark place we once called home.
Our fabled postcard from the other side.
Slipping down the side of the couch of life.
Forgotten if never mentioned by anyone but ourselves.
Take my hand and dance through the flames.
Kiss me and let us bathe in the rains.
Alive with the magic running in our veins.

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4 thoughts on “Fables of a beautiful weakness

  1. Beautiful and rings in my ears like the Yeats poem “The White Birds”

    “I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,
    Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more;
    Soon far from the rose and the lily, and fret of the flames would we be,
    Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea!”

    Like

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