To soar as Buzzards, as Eagles, must we eat carrion?

Lightening flashes across my vision.
If I hold my head at a particular angle,
and do not focus directly,.
I can identify what I see.
Now the lightening lingers,
shimmers,
dazzling,
superimposed over the
optic neuritis skewed to ultra violet,
beautiful and misleading.
Sometimes
stabbing pain is the price for such glory.
Do the bees, with vision in ultra violet,
pay a cost in pain?
Is their price a short lifespan?
The lightening is from another
source,
aural migraine,
an infinite receding,
pursued awareness, 
A samsara of all encompassing agony.
Can I ride pain as Quan Lin,
riding a Dragon,
surfing the waves of suffering?
Will my brain implode,
bursting outward from my skull,
a nightmare,
a quasar-burst of light and waves and matter;
radio resonating squeal?
Or will it not?
All the while the Stars
scream,
the constant, 
starry cicada song
overwhelmed by the banshee screech
that only I perceive. So intense the
pain it squeezes the bile from my
body in waves of vertigo,
sailing up and down,
and around,
and around,
whirling.
No end to the spiral. 
Can I dance it all away,
to fall in an exhausted heap?
Must I dance on,
whirling,
screaming:
When is there surcease?
When is there sleep?
Will the cat ever relinquish
the Cursed Fiddle?
.
To soar as Buzzards, as Eagles,
must we eat carrion?
Bear December 13, 2022
©Bearspawprint2022
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REST

Gray, damp, 
Overcast, 
Is the sky
Behind dark trees.
Mildew is growing,
Blooming black,
The road is Sand, 
Deep and dry.
Plants hang limp
With thirst. 
Work is futile.  
I sit and rest,
While drinking tea.
I watch leaves  
Gently sway,
As the slowly drift,
Falling away,
Falling.
Each one, 
Dancing alone,
Until, 
On the ground,  
They gather. 
I sit and rest.
I drink tea. 
The sky is gray.   
The  forest is silver.
The air is damp.
The sand is 
Dry, and deep. 
I sit, resting.
I drink my tea. 
I am older 
Than I was 
A little while ago.
Leaves gently sway,
Falling.

REST
Agawela October 29, 2022
ⓒBearspawprint2022

So Cold So Alone



Eats 
The Heart 
Has neared 
Completion
The laying 
A terrible bed
Not for rest 
Or refuge  
More terrible 
Than ever 
Imagined 
There is 
No way away 
I must repose 
In the
Bed that has 
Become as 
Burning 
Lies 
Coals lighting
A truth 
Of false 
Trust  
Belief in 
Kindness 
Spreads 
Choking smoke
Concealing 
The flames  
Words of love 
Flutter, soft 
And dark
As silken ashes
More fool 
Am I, to
Repose on 
Burning lies  
Soft coverlets
Of ashes 
Shadows 
On ashes 
Nightly words 
Written 
And sent
In bad faith. 
My hopeless 
Hope
Snugs 
Fiery emptiness 
Close
Morning will dawn 
Cold and true 
While 
Eats The Heart 
Pretends 
Drifting ashes 
And a bed 
Of coals 
Are the comfort
Hidden by
Blowing smoke

So Cold So Alone
Agawela October 5, 2022 
ⓒBearspawprint2022