in imperfection

so exhausted.  and I just want things to be easier.  and I want to feel something stronger than the stress and emptiness. 
and I wish I knew what that was. 

or how to figure it out. 

i guess the thing is just to wait.  time is the only thing...

i wish i could use big, magic scissors, and cut away everything, for a few days...

allow my body to be absorbed into my soul,
sucked down into something invisible and infinitesimal,
something lighter than air, that would float on the breeze. 

I could sail into the sky, till the horizon is just the next place
and the invisible became the next line to cross. 
I would absorb the energy from the sun, I would rattle across the wings of a robin...
my soul would see the purist of things, more sharply than any eye...
 the crisp blue that cuts, washes away confusion,
the white soft lace clouds emptying the empathy,
the grinding need to reach for another...
leaving only the tender yellow warmth of nothing and sunlight. 

and the call
of the different birds would be a push,
 like a broom across the dusty floor that moves you and turns you. 
and nothing,
nothing
can stop the heat at the center of me burning
for every touch you told me about, every word and look and moment of longing...

and I would crack like an egg and reverse the dissolving

I would become embodied, again, naked and on my knee. 
Alive and strong, quiet, cleansed, clipped,
un-whole in my brokenness,
streaming light in, beaming light out,
a cyclical cyclone of fury and fire. 
Reborn. 

“For within your flesh, deep within the center of your being, is the undaunted, waiting, longing, all-knowing. Is the ready, able, perfect. Within you, waiting its turn to emerge, piece by piece, with the dawn of every former test of trial and blackness, is the next unfolding, the great unfurling of wings, the re-forged backbone of a true Child of Light.”
― Jennifer DeLucy