Roar

Midway through a meditation, my roommate runs in asking about the pot burning to ash on the stove. We do the best we can, but it is not often good enough these days. I try to sink back into spiritual guidance but all that comes out is tears. I am all questions, don't ask me to lead. It occurs to me that I fear that which lies close to my chest because it eclipses everything else. Because if I follow this spark into the darkness, I leave you behind, I leave all of it behind, if I follow this spark I am untethered, I am ink and nothing else, I will extinguish when the rent can not be paid and I will not be sorry.

But you ask who wants to live forever and the answer is I do.
I want my cake and to eat it too.

I've tried feeding on poetry and all I've had to swallow
are
tears.