the marrow in my bones

I searched for Him for an age.
Past the point of my mind breaking.
On bleeding knees and blistered hands.
In darkened halls and locked memories.
Behind the bars of guided cages.
In the hallowed empty halls.
Through the minds of hallowed empty men.
I searched.

Deprived of Him, bereft, driven mad
In his silence, his constant stillness
I unhinged myself. Dismantled me,
All the pieces askew. The sinews, the coldness,
The marrow in my bones–
That is what He is after.

Stripped down to nothing
Vulnerable and bare
I waited for Him to want me
To help me
To fix me.
Naked and flawed I searched.

I found Him nowhere and everywhere.
In the crevices between my broken mind and
The void–is He there?
Purifying Himself in the bloodstains and the overflow–there?

He is not what they said.
He is me.
Uncertain.
Fluid.
Partial.
In another mind he is something new.
In another age he will be new again.
I search for something new.

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