running a tempest

In this moment
the subtle fever breaks-

oh,

clarity!

The revolting unity
between
this congenial illusion
and
this congenital self-doubt
has at long last

been
severed,

and like the storm that brews for days

threatening

with its oppressive humidity

and weight, and then

laughing at its childish power trip

sends relief cascading down from the blackened skies
this

crystal reflection of my reality

has graciously, powerfully unleashed itself upon

my insecure ocular nerve

and the yearning is

to dwell in this

to stain my walls with this bright red awareness-

but

the cutting,

blissfully melancholic truth is what follows:

this moment is

the mere, aching, brief glimpse

through the glass not so darkly

past which we will live looking

once culmination moves into that abandoned house down the block

and opens a friendly neighbourhood barbershop.