Unwrapped

“A pearl is a beautiful thing that is produced by an injured life. It is the tear [that results] from the injury of the oyster. The treasure of our being in this world is also produced by an injured life. If we had not been wounded, if we had not been injured, then we will not produce the pearl.”

—	Stephan Hoeller

You will not find me here
For I have long since gone...


This place no longer exists,
save in the mists
of a grey veiled memory.


Its opacity -
a paucity of pale glints
that once glimmered
on the stream
of a nascent hope.


Their pearlescence
too diaphanous
to hold onto
with the tutored mind.


Our fingers unnerved to
become the touch of the eyelet
as the mantilla unfolds.


A taloned fog now enshrouds it all...

Just as the vapor 
of your lover's breath 
once did...
strung along the nape
of our moonlit body musings



Dispelling all sensibility
Erasing all existence
Into a sublime suspense


The been
that was
is
no more...