Flesh
Flesh
by Shon Toney
my flesh has been ruptured, forced to reveal what’s beneath, as if a mouth opened by its own voice, and not by the violence of a saddle dragged over jagged embankments dangling from horses returning wild, here is a brilliance which could no longer be contained, how a ruby held to the sun is simultaneously filled and transforming the light spilling forth, a blossoming radiance has split me at the seams so that i can be stretched over the flames of a new love, become a flickering, without hostility towards all the magic of technology transforming ancient rituals into domestic chores of acceptable progress, so let meaning dissolve on wagging tongues like a refined sugar, while this mighty intuition invests pomegranate seeds in the inlays of animal trails, and remote controls are misplaced for the last time, dark oceans stretching between heavenly bodies are easily contained by my heart turned inside out, doubt not this new love and it will not doubt us, let its mighty intuition ask the darkness for directions through itself, let pride hear every answer, let raptured skin dance as it wraps itself around each of her sparks, let us celebrate the voice of a new love opening old wounds to sing with virginal constellations harvesting the stillness of sunshine, a pebble too is a precious stone without need for the spectacle of the waterfall even as it is smoothed by her currents, each glory is complete of itself, this love is an art that needs no shelf nor frame nor admiration nor compare, everything holds value whether it satisfies imagination or not, every emotion is a gift the universe presents itself with, a passion which frees the mighty intuition behind each transformation, a hint of jasmine in the wind, an intention to be without becoming, a thirst satisfied by the unhurried touch of pristine waters, a cuddled fascination resting with the dreams on her shoulders..
I like the idea of ancient rituals becoming daily chores. They really should. Glad to read this.
This is just how I feel, and how I wish to express it. Intuition, revelation is like a wound in our “daily chores” sensibility. It hurts but it opens us up, to connect with all manner of things outside. Such phrases as “dark oceans stretching between heavenly bodies are easily contained by my heart turned inside out,” “a pebble too is a precious stone,” “each glory is complete of itself,” and “every emotion is a gift the universe presents itself with” are what I hope to communicate. I love the wound at the beginning, “a mouth opened by its own voice,” culminating at the end as “a cuddled fascination resting with the dreams on her shoulders.” And there are so many more imagery-entwined ideas to revel in here.