Listen to the lunacy

erotic awakenings

Listen closely. To everything you are hearing.
What do you mean you’ve forgotten?
To forget and to resist are different.

Listen.
Feel.
Move.
Allow it.

Allow yourself to fill with reverent, poetic knowing.

Listen.

Not to them,
though maybe a different language
would serve your psychic slivering.

Listen to the slow murmurs of your soul bleed.

I come for you.
I reside in the centre of your fingers,
the space of your breathing,
the way you melt
in anticipation.

I reside in your open chambers
weaving a message to bare the weight
of wondrous confluence.

A flood comes.

Swim. No, drink.
The tidal wave dream is rising.
Make no sense of it.
Open.

“For the deepest comprehension of mind, we are obliged to turn to poetry. We must go to the moon people, the lunatic poets.”

— James Hillman, Alchemical Psychology

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