Space is an all-consuming black hole,
Twinkling stars are the Trickster’s ploy,
Angelic wings turn igneous once I ascend,
So I plummet into the interstellar alloy.
Galvanize in the cradle of darkness
With nowhere to run but the very nadir,
Faith is a squandered philosophy
When my strength is a hopeless crusader.
The nexus twixt my core and my being
Twists into pieces of flux coursing through me.
Listen closely into a conch shell, the voices,
And rob me of these violent surges of mortality.
The entire galaxy conspires against what is mine
As the agonies of the seared wounds relapse.
This fuel might seem placid when it’s bubbling
But it’s violently seething to the verge of collapse.
– Rubani Kaur
Photography Credit: Erik Tamo