CONFESSION ZERO (The Weaver's Song)

She leaned in close, I shuddered with awe, I was the air and she, the ground. Yes. She pursed her lips to mine and I knew it was past time. The clock’s a symbol. The clock leaks time like oil outweighs air and there’s less of it than breath. Yes.


(Silence.)

Before she releases me to sleep-dream, She needs to tell me something. The time has come. I am ready, prepared to set my Love free, to bridge that which has never been entirely mine. Yes. Fate and the wind taught me that this is my home, Heaven. That this is life's Home, it has always been and will be. Yes. I've Life and Love to sew, to imagine, to hope, to pray, to bow humbly to, to cherish, to believe. Yes.


(Silence.)

She wanted to make sure that my certainty was well in hand before she left me to my own devices, my own belief! Yes. She told me my purpose with a groggy thud. The echoes have since humbled into my story, into the expansion of roars from other upright beasts bent on self-destruction; the allure of war. I know I cannot sustain this hemorrhaging, this monstrous weight of my acidic replacement for Love; belief.


(Long Silence…)

Belief?


(Longer Silence…)

Yes.

(An even longer silence...)

She leaned in close, I shuddered with awe, I was the air and she, the ground. Yes.