I go through phases like the waning of the moon.
One moment I am full and glowing and moving
the sea’s tide, and with the drop of a feather,
I shroud myself in darkness and find a cool
place to hide.
Opulent in charisma, withdrawn from every
civilization, the tireless effort of choosing one
or the other leaves me walking on a tightrope.
Carefully, I listen to the soul’s sound and
its constant silence
Louder than a heartbeat, more fluid than the
flow of blood in my veins, the enclosing clamor
that takes up infinite space is miniscule in
comparison of what’s within.
Half black and half radiate, I rotate in one place.
A smile here, a frown there, this compass never
knows which direction to point. To a Northern
star I wish upon a genuine interaction, but
expect everything less.