The Curse of an Overpowered Toile

I am from
the past,
toile facade
without a
story; a muslin
wrap guards
my skin:  I wait. 

ancient voices
stalk me;
whisper to my
fierce silence:

I listen. 

jolted ridged
in my
canvas flesh,
toile spirits
bind me still:

I stand. 

like scissors
ripping cloth
I surrender
to my darker
spirit:
I pray. 

ancient voices of
Jouy-en-Josas
grip my reason. 

from behind a door
they shout,
"joy from yourself!"
"joy to your pleasures!"
"joy for the kingdoms
of the past and now!"
"joy for the curse of
your inner
divine!"

I awaken. 

the world
mocks the
empty me,
but my
dark light
is birthing
from my lips,
beyond my
body:

I unfold.

the world
has forgotten me, 
but no more: 

I stalk
every doubt,
the creature me,
a needle in
their stiched
souls:

I stand. 

giving birth to
my inner self
the light in
my face
is the reason
of  creation:

I emerge. 

you cannot
stand in the
way of creation;
you will not
hold my
future to the
forgotten past:

I become. 

my inner skin
opens in glory:

I am self-contained
in its beauty. 

who, under cover,
reveals the
cloth of self,
but me?

I am
toile!

I am
the
curse of
your fears!

I am
the door
to your
secret desires!

obey
your
toile!  

Text by R. Burnett Baker. 

Special thanks to Sandra Azwan.
Also featured in Life With Sandra.

The Curse of an Overpowered Toile

I am from
the past,
toile facade
without a
story; a muslin
wrap guards
my skin:  I wait. 

ancient voices
stalk me;
whisper to my
fierce silence:

I listen. 

jolted ridged
in my
canvas flesh,
toile spirits
bind me still:

I stand. 

like scissors
ripping cloth
I surrender
to my darker
spirit:
I pray. 

ancient voices of
Jouy-en-Josas
grip my reason. 

from behind a door
they shout,
"joy from yourself!"
"joy to your pleasures!"
"joy for the kingdoms
of the past and now!"
"joy for the curse of
your inner
divine!"

I awaken. 

the world
mocks the
empty me,
but my
dark light
is birthing
from my lips,
beyond my
body:

I unfold.

the world
has forgotten me, 
but no more: 

I stalk
every doubt,
the creature me,
a needle in
their stiched
souls:

I stand. 

giving birth to
my inner self
the light in
my face
is the reason
of  creation:

I emerge. 

you cannot
stand in the
way of creation;
you will not
hold my
future to the
forgotten past:

I become. 

my inner skin
opens in glory:

I am self-contained
in its beauty. 

who, under cover,
reveals the
cloth of self,
but me?

I am
toile!

I am
the
curse of
your fears!

I am
the door
to your
secret desires!

obey
your
toile!  

Text by R. Burnett Baker. 

Special thanks to Sandra Azwan.
Also featured in Life With Sandra.