Rapture's First Scar- A Blissful Ache

Love implodes like an old star.

Space, being and particles of light

descend into the depths of time.

Born from a flame

a haunting pure desire

rises to consume all that you are.

The enigmatic union drowns your ego

and the rapture of the other

saves you from yourself.

A slow burn consumes the fake and false pride

Mystery permeates,

gravity is the god between.

As the storm fades

and time begins again

the divine hunter is

betrayed,

altered,

lost,

found.

Sacred wind blows against matter,

waves of radiant hunger break against

jagged desires.

Only a trickle of truth falls into her

Solitary spirit.

Splinters of bliss bury themselves inside

secret chasms of his soul.

Eros’ piercing arrow is marooned forever in the pulsing organ

Blood seeps into every avenue of his-her being

the scar of the first rapture

Is eternal.

The mind pushes, waiting for reasons

But the blissful ache sings a silent unending song.

Passion crucifies

another willing zealous victim,

a torn soul resurrects

For first love never dies.

© 2009 Kori Fitch

While some think their is only one love-soul mate out their for each of us, I spin a different wheel. I believe these first loves, deep loves- whether romantic, family and strange brief encounters all contribute to our portfolio of life. Each experience is a work of art- some are Mona Lisa's and some are just a strange fuse of color, but we keep them just the same. We are so much more than we appear to be. We have relationships that go beyond what we label them here. I have been lucky in my life to have experienced a lot- adventure, excellence, failure, heartache, and redemption. How all these experiences happened is beyond words- poetry may be the only limited-yet more clear way to express them. I do not believe in traditonal roles. I was so lucky to experience an amazing awakening between the ages 5 to 17- I was a rookie to life- and then I dove in- my first loves range from physical, athletic excellence and failure, contracts eternity old, adventures on the other side of the world- Deepness, harshness- a super-sized combo meal at the most excellent thing called life. I ordered it and received it- man what was I thinking. This poem is for one or three or 10 first experiences where I understood the gravity of love- enigmatic as they were. All loves are important- and they have scarred my organ deeply but with arrows of light- it is good to be broken because light will stitch you back up again if you let it. Some people just love and move on- but others of us fall in love and the other stays inside- and we become poets- secret but live like this nevertheless. I will forever go out and put my heart on the chopping block before I hide myself away- and thus I live my life. I am broken hearted- like a drunk is never really ever able to give up the boos - even if he has been sober for years- he still wants that drink- the scars beat with their own rhythm- and so be it. (And I put his and her in this poem, but it can be her-her, his-his, mother-child, father-child, brother-brother, sister-sister, sister-brother- friend-friend)