Of Jacob's Toil

Leaving our mark.

A wanderer stands before a mirrored plumbless

lake of furious reproach, chiseled diamonds

encrusted under blankets of neatly packed clay

popping to the surface, slicing through a mire

of placid murky slights and imagined constraining

floating bobbles along an oozing firmament

slowly fire licks run along well laid trails

choreographed displays of long held yearning

burning in deep dark caverns pocketed

with underground ancient hieroglyph

a crown of thorn encircling a maiden bare

arm and branch twisted in sweet repose

tainted juice drips with malicious blood

heads craned back swallowing without taste

a copper tinged cocktail of mild content

a cool fingered breeze feathering the void

to plunge open backward in thickness dark

swimming naked in salt speckled black

serpent glides breaching the glistening surface

emerging wet, descending smooth, disappearing

drilling unearths boiling cauldrons brimming

and bubbling hisses, spitting red clay dust that

forms intent, collecting magnetized particles

sticky helix swirling into animate teetering legs

turquoise sparks a mingled gyrate swirl of red orange

glow, dancing superior against a gray green haze

ice blue creeps stealth along, forms seeming impregnable

surreptitious ceilings across a false sky, still churning

pacing fins breed seraphic wings with sputtering flaps

availing mercy of a haloed wall, filled of virgin light

thunder pressed urgent with lusty search of stilted breath

clings biting claws, a raging hope thrown wild against

a darkened corridor which begs for sound and sight

pleading justice for the rising gem, a raging sun, cloaked

in the obscurity of rueful clandestine shimmers collectively

yearning for a dawn deemed worthy of this, our eternal night

Author's Note

I began this contemplating overcoming the voices in our own heads. It began sounding however, like an evolutionary struggle for life when it was meant to be about a mark left to signify our frenzied struggle in light of our short existence, which It turns out is the same thing.

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[jacob erin-cilberto]

life is murky, and there is always that serpent under the surface trying to lead us the wrong way...

but if the reflection is right when we look at ourselves, we will know what path to deem the smartest, safest, and most fulfilling.

[Kristina Moulaison]

Truly spoken! That's for reading these long arduous things. :)