Exposure Therapy

the sky presses down on me, a strange radiance

the intrusion of night and sacrifice

her court is one of unfinished portraits and streams of possibility.

I feel it in my chest- a bare and vulnerable protrusion, it cries to burst forth

I feel its roots going deep into the earth, i am not alone, we are all here together

And yet I am confined, this spinning rock is a tomb

we can not die, we all live on again and again, the same pain and the same burdens

But I saw her

I saw her in the sky, if I could only feel that feeling again when she grabbed my hand then I could be free

Nothing is ever complete

If I can just taste that light every so often then I will be happy reaching upwards forever

Among the endless frames a portrait is finished.

Is joy merely the negative image?

Is despair the process of development?