And Blessed Creatures (Or: As I Watch Fantastic Mr. Fox)

So there was this guy downtown and he was all “bro?” and I was all “bro!”, but then we said “Hey? We’re not bros.” And we went our separate ways (totally took me two tries to write “separate” properly)  and never saw each other again. As insignificant as that event may have seemed it actually effected me in a deep and profound way and it inspired this poem . . . 

And Blessed Creatures

 Awakened in the hour of suffering

My torment the color of wandering

And her kisses the white dazzling curse of despair

Oh how I burn with the setting of the sun

The broken shall choir a song of yesterday

Their own hands shall wrap their own endings

And my eyes shall see the light of darkness

For in the heart of brokenness perfected; a glimmer

Illuminations of my soul serenaded from the abyss

Losing all sense of rationality I scream

Into that gaping hole of my own nothingness

In hopes that the monsters inside prove living

That they may comfort the very wounds they drew

Oh the noise of silence as it tears through the canvas of reality

And her voice the lover of my soul

For she knows all of me for she has molded me

Like daggers from the mouth of a garden

And tears pouring from the eyes of heaven’s grace

Should the waters of the ocean run dry

The heart of the morning to never rise

In the midst of heartache to count the stars

Oh my hope drunken with disease and littered with fear

And blessed creatures know that you are loved

For in the hour of suffering lies redemption

The face of beauty unveiled

For her eyes the dawning of the day

Her fragrance a winter rose out of time

Her heart a pearl in the waters of solitude

And her soul the very song of heaven

 and every moonlit night

So yeah don’t ask me how that encounter inspired this poem, because honestly I just don’t know, but for the sake of the introduction it did. 


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