Liminal

There is an unknowable part of me
That rests like the cicada beneath the soil
And though I can not name it
I can feel it taking root

It is silent.
It is still.
It is sleeping.

In the middle of the nights
When there is no moon
And the stars are hidden
Behind the filth of our city

It whispers.
It wants.
It wakes.

And in the same way that the wind
Runs it’s fingers through my hair
And the smell of the rain that
Holds me gently in it’s embrace

It is honest.
It is heavy.
It is hallowed.

It’s wings brush
the furthest edges of my soul
And I am reminded that there is life
Beyond the tangible