Suffering

How intimate

Are you with the concept,

Miss Know-It-All?

Easy for you to say there.

On the numb of reality

— That thin reed —

Things can come unhinged,

And it’s not your fault,

Remember that.

The fear is what

You dread the most —

That darkness,

That hollow place.

You have been there.

Anyone who has not

Has no fucking clue.

Have you ever been

In writhing, white-light

Pain? The crunch and

Fire of nerves setting

The body and mind

And soul afire and adrift.

This is the place

Of no sustenance,

No memory, no hope.

Remember, forlorn sailor,

It will, because it

Will follow you,

But tailwinds accompany it.

That is the wisdom of the thing.
That is the opening of the seed,

Quenched by spring rain.