Sky Burial
Without you, the cold is bitter and stings the toes. Without you, the snow only reflects the tundra in my soul, a white plane stretching miles in all directions. Without you, I long to butcher myself with my memories, drown in a pool of serene recollection. Without you, I am crawling in the dark holding a candle that the wind has snuffed. Without you, I am a pile of brown, wilted pine needles looking up at the tree from which they have fallen. I am frail and sharpened from your neglect, your cold neglect burning fossil into stone. Without you, I strangle myself with the vine growing joyful cluster.
I will gaze at you forever while insects gently gnaw away at my bones. I will caress you forever while I drown in a barrel of wine. I will sing songs to you when wild animals want to eat me. Your name shall be the only thing to moisten the dry, cracked lips of my soul. When my limbs are tossed between the beaks of scavenger birds, then my blood will gush with more opulence than to be found in the fountains of Versailles, all for your glory.
For with you, my cup spills over and stains my hands red. With you, my harvest is plump and swollen. With you, my dreams are resplendent with joy. With you, my bed is blessed with beauty of the earth. With you, my words fall to the ground as a stone plummeting to the earth. With you, unheard melodies dance wildly on the thin membranes of my eardrums. With you, my eyes are blinded with light so that I weep tears of blood. With you, my heart falls into a chasm that knows no bottom.
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