beneath this cloudless sky there is nowhere to hide. the epitome of naked. motives are questioned. their magnitude in relation to hearts. i trace the constellations in and beyond my own flight path and wear the contradictions like a second skin.
i can teach you to read these maps; to listen to the gentle thundering beneath your bones and the way the hallowed ground sings and screams that love is the opposite of gravity. and i'll dance in your palm when the moon is on fire warning of battles to come, where worlds are tasted on blood stained teeth and the road of our spines all cracked and worn leads back to where it all started.
but let me ask you, if i were to say "sacrifice is love made holy", with what would you reply? and would i even understand? reading the pattern of your words, peeling them back until red turns gold and drips and i start to wonder for how long have you been wielding lightning bolts from your palms? and what of these invisible walls? are we not gods? come closer...