Noble Truth

I can't just sit here.
There are storms raging and worlds coming into being inside of me.
While you sit there all calm and stare.
Are you quiet in a wandering repose of saline peace or does your silence emit from a void?

I'm all wrought with this vital noise that's blaring in my head.
I'm sure you can hear it. Perhaps your vacant gaze is ignorance. Perhaps it's the sage in you who knows all too well that my fervent rantings render naught.

But can't they do something?
Can't they claw at the night in a rabid madended seeking?
Can't they grope toward meaning like the lepers to Christ.
See me. Touch me. Heal me. Make me whole! Give my life meaning and let me live again.

I know what soft promises the cowards and the liars make to themselves in the dark when I'm laying in a pool of blood
sinking into the truth of I AM.

I see gentle lucid souls shining vibrantly and it makes me want to die to something more intense and powerful.

Each second is raindrop of perfection. I know.
I caught the stare from God when I slammed my jaw on the pavement that July and felt teeth and bone and tearing open tongue and throngs of this red life stuff gushed down my chin and down my neck. My breasts were all red.
Very pretty.
Very pretty in all red.

At last I know it's true that after all this fecklessness, there is me.

And in the core of my body is a noble truth. In the core of my body is a noble truth.