Enclosed in four mirrored walls,
I sit in a floor-less and ceiling-less room,
a compressed ball of passion,
anxiously awaiting the celestial decision
of Fate’s paper fortune teller.
Nourished by the sun above me,
bound by the moon below me,
four reflected spirits standby the inevitable
purge of emotion that is to come.
Which form is it to take?
Which spirit will possess me?
The wheel continues to spin the choices of
RED BLUE PURPLE GREEN…
When Fate has chosen RED,
the crimson seductress,
the impulsive indulger of desire,
Beware the Tigress
that licks your bleeding heart off her lips.
She’ll bring you to your knees
and rip your essence to shreds
with the raise of an eyebrow.
Femininity that knows no subtlety,
she soaks the summer heat
for her Tantric moonlit dance.
When Fate chooses BLUE,
the cerulean midnight,
the warm-bodied wanderer
with a hallow heart,
she sees only the reflections
of her own loneliness.
A childless mother,
she will tenderly kiss
the tears off your chin,
and let her frosted soul
cool your raging heart
though it chars her.
Vulnerable and self-effacing,
her bottomless heart is cursed
to never be filled.
She transforms into the moon
and her hope illuminates the silent sky.
Sometimes PURPLE is chosen,
or it may be lack of choice,
and I am suspended
in a temporary moment of clarity.
The twilight of emotions,
the purgatory of day and night,
the instantaneous moment that ice melts
and water evaporates.
The first kiss,
the irretrievable moments of first pleasure
and new love.
she walks steadfast towards the horizon,
the sun on her right,
the moon on her left,
both felt simultaneously
Rational passion poised in harmony,
she picks up the weary and forlorn along the way
and carries them on her back into the dawn.
If Fate chooses GREEN, you will not see her,
she will not see you.
She exists only for herself,
unshackled from the audience in my mind.
She is adrenaline and focus,
only hearing, saying, and feeling what is necessary
for the means of accomplishment and knowledge.
Determined, disciplined, and tenacious,
the sun and the moon make no difference to her.
Fate’s frivolous game continues.
As the walls spin about me
I become the spoke of this
Wheel of Misfortune.
I clench my eyes
as my insides well up
and my throat tightens.
Imprisoned by the very prism I control,
I’m doomed to remain
until I can stifle the wheel
and shatter these walls to release
my fragmented spirit.