On Hymns and the Spirituality of Being

© Lyric Doe

I have failed 6 times.

Both in body and in mind,
rejected from the process
of normal living — an illusion
I bought in my first breath,
crying many nights
to Him and Her and Them
and then to no one.
My Non-Belief an anchor
in the turbulence of uncertainty
and glances into the abyss
on days when I welcomed
the silence of death
with arms open wide
and thought — 
this was enlightenment.

The truth in darkness.

So I threw myself
like a boomerang
across the void,
violently blind,
I grew in feet
but split the heart — 
I floated
across the spectrum
a speck of dust
and unknowable
behind smiles
pulled back by
flesh of my flesh
and blood of my blood,
I crucified my being
for you
and in my destruction
I sang quietly to myself
ashes on your pyre

“Lord let me live
so that I too could walk on water
and part seas that stand
in my way
of feeling the vibrations
the universe uses
to speak in tongues
to atoms and neurons
bound together by chance
and DNA bound by love
and sometimes other things
singing hymns in choirs
knowable only to thyself,
so I can float light as a feather
along the breath of angels
and devils alike
and feel my roots dig deep
into soil rich in knowledge
so that I too can grow
tall and ringed fully
as a life whole
and holy
in self.”

I buried myself deep,
suffocating on hope
and in the fever dream
that ensued
I found my words
spat back at me
like babel.
The realization
filling me slowly
through pores wide open,
metamorphosed into
utter Belief.

I am a god.

I arose on the third day
in a cloud of birch wood smoke,
bloody psalms,
and scripture scrawled on my back
in calligraphic strokes of chalky white — 
birth in reverse.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.