The Size of a Mountain

There’s an ocean of shame

the size of a mountain

churning and gulping

inside my chest.

 

Will I dare

climb this mountain’s core?

 

Sweetness the size of a mountain

yearns,

but I will not drink of its pleasures.

Clawing the steep paths in austerity

I miss, and misinterpret the

peach and apple blossoms that might linger

in delicate curves, suggesting joy.

Instead, I see a volcano, nay a meltdown,

or storms of hurricane force dark.

 

Dare I surrender

to this weight in my chest

that pushes me down, of

the pressure of what it might take

to claim this mountain top for my own?

.. this epitome of existence

of serenity

soothing reactivity

and endlessly reaching in,

seeking in calm.

There is a flame of dark fluid passion

shouting loud from the peak of its heart.

The mixing of murky chemicals,

pitch in the deep of the dark,

bring hope in the untangling.

Paths are twisting,

fortunate blessings hidden

from war torn eyes.

 

 

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