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"Forbidden"

the knowledge 
acquired 
from the story
I’ve lived 
is forbidden
to be written

I listen to 
their voices
carried in the 
rustling leaves 
the whispering 
of ghosts behind me

hushing me
I haunt them

the rain transports
me as if it is music
I send all the 
creatures of the
forest running 
for cover 

they sense 
the forbidden 
fast approaching,
like a poetic ritual,
like what is written 
then must fast be unread,

chewed, swallowed,
hidden, inherent,
expelled, buried 
where it will 
never be found,
the forbidden

yet, they sense it,
the other creatures,
there is something
foreboding in the
measure of this place
they sense it, it is 
fearsome, yet enticing,

the forbidden 
fast approaching 

now opening, 
this something 
to be undone
that can never 
be stitched back up,
like a spine bound,
snapped, then broken

my song is sung
at once pleading, 
then intolerably terrible

it pierces the heart
not the ears
and causes the internal
begin again being to bleed
devotional, there in 
the rain’s pure water

the sound inside
treads heavy like 
the sound of horses
hooves pounding, 
the curves of contrition
ridden hard by great legions 

the stampeding thunder
arrives last, and 
shocking 
interludes later,
succeeding the 
preceding violate,

sparkling whips 
that scorch
and in climax 
crack open the sky,
breaking the veil 
a mighty seduction,
like I’m its daemon bride

my eyes look above,
I bring the lightening
down into me,
jagged veins of 
diamond light,
the sensual, biting life back 
into my finger tips

the trees are bending 
before me, inviting me 
to taste their bark, 
their lichen scales
softening for me 
potent and hypnotic,
to taste to breathe

I have no time 
to lie and dream 
at the base of them
enveloped nubile, 
green and naked again
in their velvety moss

ahead I stride 
through the gateway
to another time
another life,
the creatures 
think to follow,

but where I go
I can return,

for them 
to follow, then,
behind them
the doorway closes,
they are trapped 
in a place of no return 
of unfathomable sorrow

the smell of brimstone,
the fecund burn,
producing heightened 
awareness to the wanton
fertile mind, abundant
with magik nomenclature

settles in the mist, 
cloaking me, 
I wear it like 
impentetrable 
heraldry armour,
worn for sad victory

me in the aether,
the place 
of either or

I don’t look back, 
under the Moonlight
I cast no shadow,
I walk through 
without hesitation
creatures follow,
the doorway closes

as above, 
so below

for me 
the doorway opens

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
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