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Sunlight and Rain: The Prism of an Anarchist
These are the confessions of an Anarchist,
when I
stepped away from the light,
entering the shadows
of forbidden caverns-
the caves, tunnels
and catacombs of anarchy.
Here a constant, cold caress
of moisture,
a never-ending inner rain,
trickling,
pooling alongside lonely thoughts.
Nothing would grow so deep underground,
not even fungus, nor moss.
Survived on sheer will and dampness,
lungs mutated into gills-
eyes became accustomed
to this eternal night.
Mission lost in translation and transmission,
a rogue satellite orbiting
through the space of thin air,
cut-off from other agents of anarchy-
slithering along corridors of lost souls,
feeding on regurgitated thoughts
and drowned dreams of cities burning down,
melting like hot candle wax.
How I wanted the cities above to burn!
To burn down into the ground
in waves of rolling thunder and lightning.
Couldn't differentiate between night and day,
weeks gave birth to months,
in a C-section of fleeting years.
Somehow I stumbled upon a side entrance,
felt warmth pushing in,
pushing down,
and my will shattered apart,
dashed into a million shards.
Sunlight!
As I broke the surface,
light seared my tightly shut eyes,
breaching eyelids with ease.
The pain felt wonderful,
changing into a delirious exultation
and heated comfort,
thawing out frozen, stiff bones.
Rays of sunlight rippled across my skin,
evaporating the slimy musk of caverns,
burning me on the outside,
cleansing me from the inside.
Eventually I was able to keep my sore eyes open,
ready to sizzle and explode from sensory overload,
globules floating through my vision.
The first thing I saw
was not close up magnified,
but the distant horizon enveloped in a halo
of lemon haze arching between two mountain peaks.
I wept,
skin buzzing from the heat of the sun.
Yes,
how sunlight changes the perspective of nightmares,
revealing the true colours of things,
balancing the darkness within-
bending drops of lost hope
into a prismatic ribbon of brilliance and prayer,
always,
always evading the deep-rooted catacombs below,
a place I will choose to forego,
only entering within memories,
until even these are burned away by sunlight,
until even these are cleansed by sunlight.
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