Two Beasts, Burdened Too

Then our Beasts are holding hands. Paws. Claws. Tails. Whatever.

I said, discussing Her that roams unyielding and Her that sits still in the dark.

Notice Their forms are as they always have been: vague, undefined, shifting.

That is what I find beautiful about Them. They are always what You need Them to be.

I see the Beast all around me. Every night, I keep my eyes open

and It looks back at Me. I see It, I am aware of It.

Not only of Its existence as such, but of Its current outline,

Its shape, Its weight on My chest, this weight that makes it hard to breathe

while driving more blood into My brain. I find it exhilarating. And scary, of course.

I am always what you need me to be.

There is another Beast. Or perhaps They are the same. She, too, demands.

Demands to be seen, demands to be understood (as do we all), demands Its outline be studied.

Ever-shifting, It is whatever You need It to be.

Notice It is not what You want It to be.

The truth of it is simple, brutal in its clarity:

This Beast is hidden, until It is not.

Maybe They are different. Inherently linked, unseparably attached at the hands or claws,

the bond between the Beasts as strong, stronger, than the bond between Us, between any "Us" You can think of,

but different still.

To the truth, then, I say, surrounded by that which is always present.