As I share my face with you

I long for a deeper acquaintance
I walk through quicksand silence
To the end of the world
And jump….
Through madness into death

What the soul is…
Nobody knows
An uncertain dream perhaps
The mind clinging to a space of its own
In search of a surly rapture
Simply to erase time

I slide out of the dark
Into the sun’s buttery fingers
This split mask reminds me
That I share my face with you
So that you can witness
Beauty unimaginable

(Teri Buford O’Shea was a frequent contributor to the jonestown report. Her complete collection of writings may be found here).