Blackened I am by the course of you running through my veins; your amber-scarlet blood penetrating the thoughts of who I am, when I know naught whom you be.

You move through me with energy of perfection, detangling me from my dream-state and honoring me with passion, unyielding and buried beneath the mysteries of this world.

I shake at the thought of you; your face deliberately erased; your motions scouring my insides; I glance upon your presence and feel lessened, my inherent goodness screaming to be seen beneath the brilliant shadow of your light.

Hold me I would beg, if holding would suffice, but you are no less man than me, a wisp of brilliance let out of lover’s door to set upon my soul-fed night; suffering I am, in the ring of fire you proclaim, suffocating to swallow, to breathe in a substance so divine.

I am not enough to know you, a dullness without touch. Nor am I enough to breathe you, my mouth agape wishing blindly.

I am suffocated by the wrath I be; myself the chariot charging and bludgeoning the hallowed spaces of soul, plowing the fields for none but you.

Though still you set upon me, young bird upon perch, nibbling at the feathers of your wings, singing into an immeasurable emptiness that need be me.

My own self betrays, wrapping itself layer upon layer in a clear film of un-discovery, for I want to be as the charming one, the one beneath the garden day, where you are made to sweep upon me golden petals for bedding.

For I am but one, in this whirlpool of music, confused trembling fawn, searching for your substance, laden with this sundering that enters time and time again.

Inside flame, I am burdened with deliberate desire, when all about door upon door be shut, the doorways blocked, the treasure hidden.

How does one harbor this grand symphony of sound, when one’s own eyes cannot harness your immeasurable form?

Is this your music, your warmth, your blood that swims within, or am I merely a collaboration of symbolic fluid, the essence pouring through as echos past?

Or am I more? This ghost herself, circulating through the soul of you.

Samantha Craft, February 2013