I want to enter you this evening.

I want my words to pour in through your ears.

I want to be the dissenting opinion, sent from oblivion

to help with grieving, who came and went,

but first spoke to your fears.

You see, we can make this call and answer,

We can make this spit and respond.

we can make this about battling cancer,

me revealing my magic wand, or the great beyond.

But I’m more fond of the knowing being

an internal stirring,

a mystical meltdown with dervishes whirling

and that sense of absolute YES

on the inside

without even saying a word.

For once that internal stirring gets stirred,

there’s no telling what could happen,

so don’t start napping now,

I’m about to enter the body.

.

.

.

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