I’ve been learning to flex my intuition

To incubate (incubare, incubo)

And listen for what I’m trying to say.

The depths of the unconscious are elegant and ravaged,

Full of lightning strikes and movie stills.

Further in, further up.

What does it matter who I am?

I am a screen that filters your life,

disseminating the light, casting

shadows on your ground.

I am a conduit to many places, many memories

Belonging to one or all I cannot tell.

I am a witness to the silent spaces

Spanning time in its entirety,

Like a star one day collapsing on itself

Holy or unholy, yet wholly whole

Heartache