And as I Open

and as I open
I find myself
I admit that I am 


unfolding the Flower of Life
and then I walk
I walk 
through gates of reality
formations that burden our freedom to be 
I decorate them 
with blossoming, undeniable, delicate beauty

beauty is living truth
and I keep walking
I open more
my blood
it paints

a story in time
of time
beyond time

and I see that she 
my flow of life
is everything 
I am

the crescent and the full
the wild and the still
the sprouting and the withering
the rock that crumbles into sand 
and the rock that remains

and as I bleed - I continue to walk
dressing flowers onto cold, heavy stones

because I am living
and Life is Art 
and Art Can Die
but wants to live

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