library follies

she is at the heart of the library.
in a sense. we are still looking for each other.
there must be a parallel reality that allows our flight and our birds. I underline the Possible.
everything that is desirable should blossom and flow powerfully. from its absoluteness. the spring. the truth.

she went to the library. hoping. vibrating. the thread might guide her steps. towards and from the monster. the ancient labyrinth enclosed a monster. she recalls the idea. it was the same idea today. pervasively. assault. her body fully or vastly exposed to the same idea.
she dares not repeat the inner sound of a joint breathing. her lungs could implose. she dares not. and yet. she insists on wandering. thread against thread. through the double-edged swords of the most dangerous symbols. there are no texts. no longer. her breath becomes ostensively wet and warm. the page changes in color and touch.
the ancient walls of the labyrinth were and were not our bodies. before the sea.

we had that project of love-making. at the heart of the library. there are plenty of possibilities. waiting for the bodies.
the library was the new labyrinth. the monsters left in disguise. inhabit outside now. for ever.