The Light Inside Burns

(bring sunscreen if you're pale)

It’s hot, your fingertips instinctually pull away. They long to burn in pleasure’s fire. It’s within arms length too, but still you deny them. Like fire be burnt, cling to smoke and be free. The flames kill you and in the same instant liberate you to smoke’s flight. Rendering you virtually untouchable. It’s the alchemical pipeline of death to freedom. There is safety in your demise.

You pull the covers up over your head tight, and choke on the hot air. On the other side is the crushing weight of joy and plenty, too big to move on from and you’re scared. It wants to penetrate you and light you up like a lamp. You know your thin skin will burst.

Migrashira wants to run away. The seeker so proficient in searching, but unable to adopt the finding. How does one go from seeking to found? So abrupt, and the inertia enormous. I am in danger of passing it all by.

I drive. I see cows out my window. I, “Moooooooo- ”. They are far in the distance of my rearview window before I can say, “I am complete"“.

You soak in sunshine hour after hour, day after day, borrowing a warmth you refuse to give yourself. Rinse your thin skin in it, but do not let it in. The spirit of warmth will overtake you, and you will surely blow.

Run! Says the voice, deep in your head now, clear as day now. You know you heard it, didn’t you?

Rays of warm light shooting from your closed eyes and open mouth. Each strand of hair like a gold thread, your teeth are shining- cosmic stars. A moonbeam shoots from each finger and toe farther than light has yet to travel. You are lampified, labotomized with stardust-orgasmic-brightness. It rolls like molly through your tender veins, it throws you high, high into the air and you never fall back down. You are electric with love that churns oceans and enrages fiery lakes. A volcano erupts into you, lava drips from your swollen mouth… It is terror and ecstasy.

You quiet the voice. How can you really be sure you heard anything at all? (You either did or you didn’t.)

Slide sunglasses on to tune out the brightness. But it blocks only the 1 degree of light needed to see the glaringly thin veil before you. You quickly remove them but it’s too late, you know what’s waiting. Even one soft fingertip will rip this reality right down the middle. It’s a game of don’t touch the lava, and it’s killing you with safety. You hold so still, trying to blur your eyes not to see the destiny before you. It’s a pit of lava, and it invites you by name to come swim.

Scared, like an untrained hero. Do you even know your own name? There is no bud waiting inside of you to bloom. There are gnashing teeth of wild horses. Not angry, just very alive, tasting life viciously— every measly scrap you feed them.

You can never run away just right. Run, run fly, but there is never a hiding spot from this all seeing eye. You are unmissable, the sun itself. Moon and stars burst at the sight of your glorious burn. You alone can survive this.