
This is how a sage is formed
this is how a saint is born
as you slumber in your cocoon of suffering
walled in by your own spittle and shite
twitching twisting thrashing
catching your own tail and devouring
the world’s collective knowledge
it stirs
that fierce, dark intelligence
it lurks
that savage, holy brilliance
caged in body and yet free to roam the ether
pierced by angelic spears and transfixed
with visions past, present and yet to be.
I hear your eyes turning toward me
I feel your ears tuning into my signal
I see your hands as they reach upward
holding your heart as your only offering
(small sacrifices for our imperfect artifices)
I perceive your thoughts and your apprehension
but release your fear
and rejoice my friend
this trail of agony is your path to ascension.