THE WEAVE:

Vesta rides the Confluence

into a different entrance

of the Outer Rim

of Space…

"Lili," Vesta blips,
into the walkie-talkie,
I found one of your breadcrumbs
out Here.  Want me
to read it?"

"Not really," Lilith responds,
"But go ahead. Over."

Vesta takes a deep breath,
"It's just someTimes,
I don't know what I'm doing.
It's too hard, being the One

stuck in Here with me.
We're getting older,
she and I, together.

So quickly too,
she dulls and sharpens
as the Light plays through

the image which she holds
up to mySelves.
I don't know what to do

with her.  So many rules.
So many fences made
hard to cross -boundaries

built to draw a bleed,
and no safety
should I decide to retreat.

Either she'll be there,
already scolding me
when I make it home,

or hanging our walls
with all the failures
that already happened

and can't be fixed.
It's just someTimes
I don't know what I'm doing.

It's too hard being the One
stuck in Here with me.
We're getting older,

she and I, together."

Dang," Lilith blips
back to V, "Sucks
to be Baby-Lilitu.
When did I write that?"

"2014."

"Well," Lilith shrugs, "That is
what happens when you are
raised by a GXD with impossible
standards. After a while,
you do not even need him
around.  He lives in your head,
and you become your own
enemy."

"You pinned poems, to like,
every Star on the Outer Rim,"
Vesta explains, as she looks around.

"Are you going to read
all of them?"  Lilith asks.

"Fuck no," V calls back,
"I'm leaving my own
trail of sticky-notes."

"Great.  Will you take
a dictation, to add
to the back of that one?
Maybe my younger Self will return
Here, read it, and rearrange things..."

"Sure, let it rip,"
Vesta waits.
"I'll make an extra copy
for the Forest Books..."


"Why lose peace, over Other
people's opinions of you?
You drag yourSelves into
their hole with them, and then,

you are nailed to their cross:
You, the emotional.
You, the inappropriate.
You, the judgemental

One.  Why lose
peace.  Let people
have their beliefs.
You do not need to feed

every beast.  They knock
at your door, "I want
tea," they say, "I want
to understand you."  So

you tell them, and they say,
"No.  You're wrong.  No
I can't believe that.  No
you are not real."  Because

that's all they really wanted
to hear -themSelves in
your ear, their own ideas pouring
from your mouth.  "No, you cannot

be understood.  You are
just a Daemon."  So
be One.  Like the Venus fly
-trap.  Let them drown.

Let them digest themSelves.
Let their words fall
into your hungry stomach
and be eaten."

"Dark, Lili."
Vesta comments.

"I know right?" Lili grins,
"I hopped on that rock
last Autumn."