One Dies {Poetry}

One Dies

One Dies | Poetry by Matias O'Din

Neurotoxic ritual—the drugged ants awake in a fury
stinging the hands of a would-be warrior,
living needles that leave permanent marks
not on skin but memory

The materiality of the abstracted Self becoming

The knowledge of suffering

Paralysis pushes its way through pinhole wounds
Burning
And the effort to remain standing becomes a dance
A Sacred Movement

Spontaneous reckless flowering birthing galaxies
from agony

Totally alone, totally Free

Finally worthy of a tribe…

There is a space in your eyes that cannot be filled
with any hypothetical,
Cannot be filled with the ideas of scholars
theologians or philosophers…
Cannot be filled with these words.

You are not some thing to be played with,
 tossed aside inanimate useless—
You are the Experience unfolding all ways,
Mystery upon Mystery arising,
A Self-Initiating slice of the Void Manifest
 in sweating,
 struggling form.

A tear escapes from beneath a twitching eyelid.
Painted flesh exhausted heaves against its own weight.
A swollen hand clutches at the heavy earth…

One dies and yet remains—
some new Being hidden within bone and blood,

Monster of Vision

Luminous Man

of Water

and Stone.

 

–M.O’D.

 


Like this poem? Leave me a comment or three (I love hearing from you)!

Or reach out to me at:

write@matiasodin.com

 

To your sweating, struggling form,

Matias

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1 Response

  1. Shanti says:

    i understand. truly.

    holding space for you, and i loved it forward.

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