There are two roads to the Sun.

On one of them,

The wax between your wings can melt, and you can fall,

And on the other, your feathers develop 

A lighter sense of air,

And you don’t care anymore.

But if you did, you’d notice that,

At some point on your journey,

A fat, cherubimic cushion of love

Had enveloped you somewhere on the way.

Can you say what it is that made you want

To visit the sun in the first place?

Can you tell if you’re in heaven or hell?

And now, forget about your wings.

It’s seems that you, yourself, are melting.

Love has won,

And now you’re aware.

There’s really only one way to the Sun.

But where are you?

Swallowed by heat and an auspicious lack of air,

And something stronger than death has you,

The strange breath of life-giving sex

Is breathing you!

Breeding you, kneading you into

Bread, baking you, eating you

Digesting your essence,

Taking you apart and using you

To energize her life for fun!

And now you’re not even sure.

Did you make it to the sun,

Or not?

-jenn