Wild: Snarling (my return song to the Revels)

We would fight our weaknesses, all of us
And I advise if this is wise:
in the doing of the thing, so become we human again
Fighting a weakness and letting it live is to become stronger
And unbecome the death we’d seek from weak.

Cats and people run from it
Be the hour of dark or glittering sun
With triumph, harsh and bitter, in my stomach;
I know the truth of this crude thing.

They have been forced to notice me
They have been forced to see my face
They are the circles underneath my eyes
They are the fear inside my heart.

So does my empty magic come
So does the blood in my veins run,
Invisible anger is my power.

Sometimes I picture my blue-grey eyes
Fringed with thorns instead of lashes;
So do I picture thus our greeting.

Greeting, when my fingers touch your face
When you touch them back with a gasp of incredulity
With my too-dry lips upon your shapely cheeks
Vine-fringe draws your ire from my sleek and tender touch.

In the moment, your will eyes widen
against inner will do you glance toward the door,
My vine-eyes will see you with an unempty grimace
My vine-eyes will see you with a humorless laugh:

Your snippets of fear
are become my temptation.

Does that lessen my weakness,
Or does it lessen me?

Me,
Or you?

You,
Or me?

Regardless,
You will feel my touch
And to your touch I feel.

The moments will pass,
Dead.

Dead,
As weaknesses
are not.

Immortal or not,
we cannot kill them:
they are only as dead
as we want them to be.