by Barbara Harsh
Long octopus legs, gradually accelerating venom Released from the holographic glow like a long awakening to the heart of your unnamed torture. Move forward. No permission required. Set free from the madness Masked as an angel. Anger and venom, sharp and silent. Spits at the one with elephant memory. Witness to the dramas, lies and stories. A vortex we orbit. Fear is the shadowy substance spun invisibly. Cures are illusions. The illness is not in us. Drama sustained without cause through sheer will and loud voices that leave the smell of fear everywhere. Relentless shards remain. Too many weepless hours endured. Bitter the lessons. Lost, losses, good-byes. Story shards removed one by one. Centuries of story fold into moments The storyteller was innocent, only another sliver woven. The tapestry of truth unveils the story and opens the heart. Joy laughter loudly spills, finishing the story as illusion. Knowing the Journey was love finding itself.