communion

My voice is like a violin in an orchestra, soaring, and weeping,
The sunlight is like fire in my hair,
My song to the moon beautifies my face,
The ocean of my fingers stretch out before me, to capture my scream,
And my soul cries out of from the depths of my silence,
Yet somehow you are there, standing in a shadow,
Waiting for me, for what you know inevitably arrives,
Making me make sense of it all, of what I cannot see.

When I scream the world down in my blind frustration, panting, in exhaustion,
Bringing nihilistic dreams crashing down around me,
Creating a cacophony of paranoia, a symphony of catastrophe,
You sit there and listen to me; you hear that still quiet voice,
You hear me, you listen, and somehow you know,
When my body is stretched out on a rack in excruciating torment,
When I persecute myself, destroy myself, rip flesh from my fingers,
Cut myself until I bleed blood red carnations, there you are, listening.

And in my tears, my lachrymals, in my pleading and hiding,
You are there, there is no hiding from you,
In the days that are covered in orange and opaque clouds,
When thunder and tears lash my window, and lash my skin,
When the twilight of my dreams turns from amethyst,
Into a deep and deeper blue, full of still lakes of sorrow,
You are there, watching,
You simply support, helping make sense of the hellish tempest.

When I destroy myself, when I am paranoia’s ghost, when I hardly know myself,
Then you are there, just quietly there,
When I am flowing full of tears, flowers from my eyes, passionate darkness,
Blood dripping like candle wax, my spirit drained from me,
There you are, listening,
When I am incandescent with rage, sorrowful and keening, crying, procrastinating,
Blind to myself, lost, anguished, hiding my face, a drip of pain,
You are there, always supporting, always listening.

You are rarer than life, rarer than a flowering violet,
You are more precious than sapphires, opals and orchids,
And in my refractive index, in my waterfall dispersion, in gravity and sorrow,
You are just there, simply, you are just there.

Martin Gaughan
10/6/09
(for my friends)