These arms of mine

Amazing and frustrating at once, a system you have no recollection of having established is somehow in place.  Undeniably so.  Phantom pain blends with real and you find yourself stuck, literally, arms in the air with your shirt half off.

A system that weaves over the border into information retention, a soul state of denial and negotiation designed to provide you with protection you never asked for.  Knowledge deemed beyond your scope is hidden, watered down with wine until you can handle it.

Despite all the orchestrations, you knew.  Long before anyone else.  You knew what you would never hold again.  Every twinge, pinch, and pull whispered to you and prepared you for what was to come.

Walking after midnight

Dark and quiet, no animals, just you.  Ferns and leaves long brown beneath you, canopies above.

A trail of hard-working lace, intricate and purposeful, left like breadcrumbs in this forest so you can find your way home.  Pieces of a vintage quilt you'll sew together one day.

Your hold your discovery in your mind, alchemist for a day, that day when you took red and blue away from purple and saw how it was made.  The darkest mix of hot and cold, blood and truth.  

Separate perhaps, at least for a time.  You see now they were never apart.

How much blood does it take to get to the truth?  Follow its river, study its stains.