They Cannot Be Blamed, But I Will Not Be Eaten

As my skin continues to love its way
Into the gaps between my mind
And a wellspring of that ever deserving reality,

One thing is always becoming clearer.
There is the golden rule,
And then there is the rule of the wilderness.

The path only unfolds for the self-claimed,
But its flanks are stalked by strange beasts,
Seeming to emerge, without volition,
From the face of ordinary people.

Therefore, along this pilgrimage
Into who I am, where what is mine
Waits for my playful touch
And the glaze of reverence
Which comes with a blaze of arrival,

In between I must show my spirit,
Every now and then apart from its sheathe
In between I must always be willing
To slay that part of me that believes
Celebration can ever come from eyes
Blackened with self-disdain.

And though mercy has its place,
In this wilderness I must be willing
To slay that excessive darkness
Trying to slither into my traveling bag,
To reject with unforgiving fire any overflowing night
Which I have not poured with my own two hands.
-Francois El Ausar