Must we pay to travel between dark and light?
I quiet my own voice and listen. What was not available to me before appears, unembodied, yet fully formed.
This wind. Its sounds penetrate like sharpened visions, cutting through me with voices in languages I can only sense. Doors open, my consciousness suddenly blown off its hinges.
I used to think there was an uncrossible chasm between heaven and hell. But reading what I have just written, I now believe it was just a hole I dug where I should have built a bridge.
I have mingled my breath with forces I cannot control, and the gap is closing in overlap with both sides.
This wind cannot be contained by words. It shivers me with fingers of fire and ice. It is both more ravishing and more malevolent than eternity.
Detached without beginning without end.
Prosery for Lillian at dVerse, with this line from Louise Gluck: “Reading what I have just written, I now believe”