… i felt a sudden urge to mutilate the English language with a piece of half-baked poetry. here you are.
my new friend
is a big blue soul
a tiny chuckling body.
she bears the name
of an ancient heroine.
the one with the thread.
the one who guides you through the labyrinth.
i follow her eyes as she looks into me.
i run my fingers down the thread into pre-existence.
this new friend who knows of ancient mysteries
(that are not spoken of in the world of words):
she IS poetry. she IS the promise. she IS quintessential power.
as we lock eyes, we lock hearts.
hold on, little one, i say.
you have come to teach us.
she weaves a net around my heart,
the kind you need to recover a shipwreck.
she weaves strong magic,
the kind you need to float a beached whale up to heavens,
up, up, and even higher,
past the clouds,
where misery yields to temptation
and finally bursts
into bubbles of smile.