Homogeneous, the soul is not,
Contaminants may surface
After being stirred
What has not been dealt with
Sinks to the bottom of the abyss
Waiting to ferment once again.
Facing a mass being more insurmountable
Than a slurry of rubble
Better to spread the hurt,
Break it into palatable remnants,
Boil them down, let the volatiles escape
Leave the gravities in the remains of the mind
And own them in every part of your being
No comments:
Post a Comment