THREADS OF SURRENDER. A POEM.

Shiny promises lacking in shape. Without texture. Deceiving you gently with false whispers of support yet dissolving like vapor the moment you lean in.

How expertly the enemy crafts but never completes, for how could it?
What is dead cannot hold life.

Eternal life is the price of admission. Do you think you can chip in?

Front door tickets available to all but few will see fit through the needle.

Becoming a thread, you offer lint. Almost invisible. Weightless.

Defying gravity. Denying the flesh.

Do you know how much space is suddenly available? and mine? again?

My old clothes got caught in the narrow Gate and now I stand here raw.

But this really isn’t about me, I am merely a vessel.

Are you available?

Until next shape,
Mango/Kat𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

ᝰ.ᐟWhat’s Alive:

• Currently listening: to this

• Currently drinking: CULTURE COFFEE Pour Over

• Currently reading: The Book of John in the Bible

• Currently learning: guitar

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