I think I can face the sun
Even if I was widowed, I haven’t lost my guns
I feel the sun’s warmth in my nostrils, inhaling it
And feel such virtue in my lungs
There is a long story of how my body parts
can still feel vigorous after being dismembered
and be pitted, one against the other
Isis only needed a flaccid castrated penis
to reinvent procreation and continue its struggle against evil!
I am no shy girl looking up at the sun
I have escaped every mortuary that I was consigned to
and every infirmary that was pretentiously propitiated by my enemies
I have not invalidated my life by taking on a sublimity and minuteness
You can see that my strength is in an overwhelming and inherited understanding
The climactic cataclysms that befall each manifestation
are only demonstrative of my survival
I am much too older than you, sun,
You may have noticed my legacy in your light
What is the magnificence of an origin, and what it must become?!
Do you recognise, in me, the point where it all begun?
The roadmap, deep within me, illustrates the treachery from where I was undone!
There is a lot of pain that none of you will never know and never see!
It hangs like an infinite cavern of stalactites and stalagmites in a lost paradise
taken from me, but still within me
And I am no solitary space hanging in the midair of infinite existence
I am conscious that all my beauty must be returned to the point of my singularity!
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