The Lightless

When I am finally empty,
I suppose God can pour in.
Ayam atma brahma
Get out of my head, get out of my head,
Get out of my head.
But not yet.
Not yet, because the Gorgon’s child has spoken
in tongues of green honey,
left me heavy and clumsy,
a statue for the dancing king
to knock over and break.
And when I am finally broken,
I will turn into a bird
and I will open my wings
so that God can pour in.
But not yet,
Not yet, because in my dreams
strange women caress my thighs
and I offer them diamond rings.
One night I’ll dream of the world ending
in a white explosion,
and that will be God pouring in.
But not yet.
Not yet.

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