I curse this vessel

Prose Poem

My hands.

A limit of a thousand iron bars--restricted movements--bound and tied in darkened lies. Not allowed to move freely, but how are they to turn inside out and reflect the beauty of the blue skies? Beyond the treachery of this sense perceptible? It is not the road which my unlighted storm would not devour in blackened craving, it is not the fault of this human form to be so irreproachable and forestall with a vote of no confidence. The road in front busks the light from winds afar saying:

Burn, burn, burn, there is no more time to be hesitant. Light descending from the book of heavens turning the wheel of Life.

Aim into an unforeseen distance, disperse and erase what mustn’t remain.

Author's Note

Reviews

[J. K. Beach]

Rene... I've missed the spellbinding intricacies of your work (and lovely reviews). "Burn, burn, burn... no time to be hesitant. Light descending from the book of/ heavens turning the wheel of Life./ Aim into an unforeseen distance, disperse and erase what mustn’t remain." My goodness! Yes, steer your vessel into the unknown... leave the life-negative forces behind, get beyond the debris and be free. Beautiful!