Queen of thorns

I shake hands with the queen of thorns, decorated with the fragrance of jasmine and blooms of petals that shimmer through the moonlight. A friendly and clandestine rendezvous of sorts, to negotiate the daily routine of pain.

A firm but gentle grasp, each shake seeping with droplets of blood and pollen. It is time to barter. An ache in the back from the weight of the world suspended on my shoulders for a salve that mends yesterday’s wounds on the heart. Perhaps a brace for the knees that bend down, throbbing with each heart beat, to the faceless void that hear none of your calls of surrender, at the cost of bruising around tired eyes that are forcefully pried open. Or maybe this is the evening where I bottle blood, sweat and incense in hopes that kindred spirits will let me sleep at night without nightmares to remind me that the scripture that lies beneath the fabrics of life reeks of malevolence.

Vespertine. A seat with the lady in front of a beautiful scene of moonlight peeking through an ocean of lush vines, weaving a quilt atop the lightly shivering earth that houses night bugs and critters. We’ll sit in silence for a while for this meeting; there really isn’t much to say. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve dealt with nature.

A deep breath, and you could feel the honey-like aroma of distant honeysuckles and the gentle smell of fertile, moist soil surge through your veins like a conveyor belt of light electrical pulses across your limbs. A gentle caress from the petal of a jasmine bloom. “It’s almost time, my dear”.

Saddened that the night that befell us will eventually end, I offer my vision to her. “Why this tonight, dear?” It’s a question she always asks in her seraphic voice that sweeps along the light breeze, orchestrated by the cymbals of leaves in the lush canopies. It’s a legitimate curiosity she has.

“Sometimes it helps to be blind”, I respond, “because bliss comes from never seeing what is cruel. Fear not – I still have my other senses to know what is going on and how to protect myself. It helps me keep calm in the day and chase nightmares away at night, and I know I’ll wake up the next morning alive this way.”

“Very well, my love. You know where to find me when you need me.”

As always, slumbering in the deepest level of my consciousness, past id and super ego and the threaded within my amygdala. I’ll keep you safe as long as you keep me safe.