INNERMOST





A gentle massaging grasp
Constricts tighter
Releases hold
As gentle motions
Relax the guard
An even flow
Washing softly
Caressing
Until...

Complete release, pouring freely
Flooding the plains of passion
Growth explodes the canvas
All the colors are nourishing
Life is flourishing and fruits
Eden births for the inner most
But...
"Where are you?"


In the empty vessel of possibilities
Truth washed away
As the floods of red
Blood stained youth
Tapped from the nipple of innocence
Was sold to the highest bidder

The empty plains of regret
The voids and darkness
Complete despair
Starved out the inner most
Who could no longer see
For the reflection of desolation
Blinded the inner most
As the stenching taste
Rotting fruits of labor in love lost
Diseased the inner most
While the whispers
Raked thunderously
Upon the inner most
Until...

The explosion of red
Stained the inner most
The fires of hell
Burned away the foundation
Of reality's facade
Disclosed truths crushed
All that supports or can fair
Such a storm of torrid rage

Lying in the aftermath
No sense left to the inner most
Except feeling
A multitude of feelings
Grasping tighter
Not releasing
But strangling
Yet, at the same time,
Holding on to all that is left
The inner most struggles,
With the feelings,
And wanders away...

Meanwhile Eden waits
Bearing fruits
Of labors in love won
And wonders...

"Will my fruits rot?"
~





DBrown Fisher
© May 1993

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