The Sacrifice

the ink bleeds into her eye as the pen floats across the planes of her face.
she blinks back the tears to preserve the ink marking her body. but still lightening bolts of tear and ink cris-cross her canvas. she is painted gold, burnished, prepared. the incense snakes through her nose and her body responds to the heat around her, sweat beading under her arms and behind her knees. the candle light reflects on the gold flecks on her finger tips as she clasps her hands in adoration. she moves her hands to her forehead resting her golden dyed hair and heavy eyelashes against her hands, holding her breath and releasing her breath in submission. she bows, placing her forearms on the ground, bowing her head in gratitude. with the release of breath she releases her fear. she releases her pain. she releases her weakness. when she inhales she breathes in the fear of the world, the pain of the world, and the weakness of the world. with gratitude and submission she breathes in her part of the world and breathes out her part of the world, each day trying to transform her part of the world into something. something that is finally only breath.