I smile

a while away from guile,

new style to foster truth,

a sleuth to track the tundra

underneath the embers

remembering the wonder

and warm magenta umbra – 

a place I can call home.

This status is unstable

no cable ties me down,

not stagnant with a label

inventing fickle fables

shunning my pure Able

I move forward now.

I shall tell you how:

 

Majesty is amnesty

where agony is blasphemy

and not the sad solution.

Now I face anomoly,

a cavity, a strategy

where I am unknown

and thrown.

 

But here there is a throne:

my bones are amply carpeted,

I’ve grown to hone my skills

so I can now be targeted

to reign inside this temple

my body has become.

 

And so I am still smiling,

there are wrinkles by my eyelids

and dimples on my cheeks.

I think I see a peak —

perhaps I am approaching

reproaching from the modesty

(my previous technique)

which claimed I was an oddity

with fodder for restriction

that led me to my weakness

a falling out of Eden.

 

But now I find another path

and laughing I move forwards

towards an unknown future,

with hopes to heal the sutures,

and featuring the possible

— that nothing is impossible —

I can render all asunder

beyond the growing wonder,

new indigo adventures

mark a bench for my fruition

and tuition, self-reliant,

defiant I will save myself,

guide myself, feed myself.

This is my belfry,

I ring out the ritual,

alone, at home, within.