I think I'll start all over again and I do
but then almost choke on a gulp of coffee
so begins another day the angel is mute
there are various achings in different places
many paths branch off which should I take?
not to be too cavalier about such things
each heartbeat subtracts me toward--what?
heaven hell oblivion dark energy waking?
I don't want to slide from my old dead skin
I don't want to feel utterly bare and new
defenseless at dawn exposed to noon
shrouded by the cold shadows of dusk
I don't want to grow change die be born
still it happens I surrender then bow
the fist of my wound hasn't unclenched yet
I still brandish it before me like a shield
but little by little fingers break open
as petals packed inside a bursting bud
unfurl to drink the golden light