A Point of Departure

Water_witch-2by Abigael10 Jun 2014

A Picasso Dream.

In a Picasso dream,
I climb steep spiral stairs
to distant milky galaxies,
I stumble and tumble
fall into the outstretched
arms of Beelzebub.

In my upturned palms
he planted a handful
of peculiar old bones,
I shake off life's debris,
listen to bones empty rattle,
and quote poems to wash
the dust from my spirit.

Undaunted I try again
as flesh flounders around
what's on, or inside my face,
what lies behind this face ?
I feel all shades of purple
in a blue tinted nightmare
wrapped around the neck
of life's skeletal remains.

I labour to put some flesh
on passions ancient bones ,
Then I looked at the lie
that showed me the truth.
and incised my heart, I bled.
Old wounds were cauterised
and branded with the flame
of creations sacred mystery.