A cycle of love and sludge (Or.... The unity of light and darkness)

I wrap myself in this

Blanket of love

I wove from

The strings of my heart.

Settled in this safety net,

I grow outward -

Tendrils, roots, trunk and stem:

A plethora of me -

Till I am all I can see.

And as I grow,

My shadow grows too;

Black tar sludge oozes

Around my feet,

Squirming up till it fills

The marrow of my soul.

Shame, loathing, hatred, disgust....

All are ripened in the

Peaty bog.

I stand naked,

My filth visible to all.

Yet only those with

Sharper eyes

Penetrate beneath to see....

It is my choice to be here.

I do not suffer!

I am no victim of circumstance

But a willing descendant into darkness -

An empowered Persephone.

Bring me shame! Bring me fear!

Bring me loathing and disgust!

For they are mine and I own them;

Revel in them.

I love them

For they cannot love themselves.

And the black tar sludge

Overwhelms no longer

But is fertile ground

In which wild flowers bloom.