The Hum Reverberating Through Us All

Does anything else really matter at all?

There is a noise so bleak, so paramount inside our vase, mistaken for a doll’s house.

It tightens our jugulars, breathes riddles into Our cascade of pretences.

Scattered mosaics morph our view, succumbing to the sticky grit that clings and clutches to my freckled cheeks.

I’m a slave to the natural order, Their evergreen branches climb up my stems, interweaving their veins, into my own, As they pump a rouge palette, through my system.

The stone chamber welcomes my tear-stained lashes, the windows of their irises' hold me for a moment too long.

A lifetime of retched dirt, covered my pieces, until’ I was purely a part of the ground, I was birthed upon.

The selkie calls me to her ominous chaos, soothed into the sea, the salt, a taste of home, the time spent licking my wounds, with her majesty the crone.

My soul has been ravenously hungry, for lifetimes I have been living here, through the trials and turbulence, of many ancestors, who like me, were forged into the earth, by their umbilical cords

Born with soot on our faces, dreams of a distant place, in our minds.

Ones we’ve engraved, into our vocal cords, lost in the hidden memory, of our creation.

An encrypted complexity, of many masks, existing in one, dominance holding the reins, of our activation.

Submission stifling our cause, with a reverence that bleeds, for that which we do not succumb to.

This life comes with no scroll of plight, no neon guides, no stepping stones paved.

The songstress will serenade, life’s cradle will rock you as a babe, the artist will sculpt your racing eyes, to behave The selkie will baptise you, with her riddled salty demise

There’s a complex meeting, of what’s at play. Can we release control, merge within the unknown, of today?

Will you bite? Will you shed? Will your smile lines erupt the dismay?

As I bask in the ocean, seek solace under the dimly lit moonlight, as I watch, the scattered illuminations brighten my emerald orbs, I wonder if anything else really matters at all

©️ Rights Reserved, Bonnie Knapton

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Thank you dearly for reading, Bonnie ❤