Diana Cuautle
 

The unearthing revelation of desolation

 

 A spiritual genocide within ourselves 

 

I examine this dimension 

 

Slightly touching the ground to fly up again

 

Birthing an ode to myself

 

I come back and serve as a mirror 

 

 Reflecting the presence of the higher and

 

lower realm

 

Twisting to the fragrance of the red honeysuckle

 

Looking through the glass once more

 

Here i still play in the utopian delusion

 

Cascades of sentiments will resurface 

 

As appealing crystallized daydreams

​

-Diana Cuautle