I motioned up the hills
familiar gravitational ellipses and eclipses,
longingly pulling the familiar tulips towards me —
my love,

I want to come home now.

The sunset had begun,
webs of planetary oppositions and triangulations
brushing the last cobwebs away from my heart.

Though the voices behind me keep pace,
willing me to return and end it all,
though the demon-host thunders deep under the compact soil,
the shattering of glass in flames in the sky above

still, my love —
I thought I’d come home now.

I will Shiva to hide me once again in the realm of rights and wrongs,
like stray to master
so I can follow the map in my heart to our safe meadow.

In between the moons and suns
gods, humans, children, and monsters
the rhythms of wind, a heart of bleeding green.

Here, I can lie in your lap when you welcome me home.
The soft humming will begin in the everlasting ambiance of our devotion
the pacing will come to a standstill,
voices will quieten for the moment.

Here, we are Gods, and gods within us
the flow of infinity will begin from our feet to our lips.

Safe in our meadow, we will embrace and seek refuge
the pain, confusion, and hopelessness promises to dissolve into white mist.

The tomatoes will grow in big and holistic circles
for our love that will be fed daily.

But where you once stood is now a vast formless womb of nothingness
that takes up no space, a violation of my sacred meadow.

I gaze upwards softly
feeling myself falling amongst the constellation of my parallels.

The sorrow has no articulation
a tender broken child.

In the beginning, there was primeval darkness
where you gave birth to my light
you were always within me.

And now, in the end, there is primeval darkness
hissing snakes
a marriage of heaven and hell
of blood and glittering fruit

my home has disassembled into nakedness —
the meadow is no more

but one day my love,
maybe I’ll try coming home again.