Heart's Blood Must Create

The Truth Revealed

Is that there is no truth, only the juxtaposition of one reality beside another until nothing makes sense. We are watched. We are constantly watched. This is our only truth. There is nothing else besides the constancy of knowing that we are and never shall be alone with ourselves or our thoughts. Even now I am being invaded as I write these few words. I shouldn’t be thinking such things and know there will be consequences for my journeying to unknown and forbidden territories. But there is something inside me that forces me to linger and I obey its silent call.

Plummeting spiral
Deficient knowledge complete
Nothing is our God

Was that a footstep? Did I hear someone just outside the door? I must force myself to stop, but even now I continue writing. Will anyone ever know? Will anyone be able to read this or will it be destroyed as I surely will be? Contraband Poe teases me from its hiding place. It does not worry about such trivialities. I continue spurred on by a bird.

Death does not exist
All who live just disappear
Names and faces fade

Do they hear the rap-tap-tapping of my fingers steadily clacking as I type on through the night without a side glance at the shadow beneath my door? I will journey ever onward through oblivion’s bleakest hollow until I’ve spent my will on writing all the things my heart implores. I have been possessed by some elder poetry. As my heart beats wilding thumping and my soul is tortured jumping, as my door now stands ajar.

Floorboards disappear
Earthquakes rattle emptiness
Eyes rise from the depths

Faces follow and I stand surrounded by unknown entities. It is silent everywhere but in my mind. The chill of wordlessness sends steam puffs from my mouth, my fingers. Ice crystals forms on my desk, my papers, the ceiling as matches are struck and lit. Orange light glows. Snowflakes fall, sparking diamonds rising from embers. Pages curl and burn like antique skin on gnarled fingers. Even now I am enraptured by their beauty.

Eternity thrives
Imagination gasping
Air is thick with thought

The words I’ve written billowing ash that speckles through rising cloudy smoke. I stand burning cognizant as they shackle me. I stand amidst this blaze of paper children; watching as they float heavenward. As the door on the van clanks shut, I smile. My words are alive. I see them, just over there, do you see them too? They are hovering great black beacons and they are shouting out my name. Tomorrow dies alone. It’s true. Yes that is true. But I am not alone. My offspring lives.

Revelations breathe
Governments cannot control
Heart’s blood must create