Mind tethered to body
One of aspiration
The other regressed to desires
A question arises
In the light of the moon

Can a line be free of kink
If it’s yet to be strung
And a bow free of force
If it’s yet to be drawn
Yet tight wires
Accept timid steps

Graceful movement
So subtle
Over a bottomless trench
Licking and tickling
Flames warming below

Not hell, but passion
In its gluttonous pride
Offering you hands
To snap the rope
And pull you down to its side

Your heart soars as you fall
Or perhaps your gut
The natural need to feed
To indulge
Invites and excites the drop

 

-Galwyn

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