Howling

My black dog, separated from birth.
A soul put into a body, spending a lifetime learning physicality,
Split in two, one which lives and one that searches, until he finds you.
He pierces your skin, makes your blood black,
He makes you die an infinite death, brings you to the only place you do not know,
Calls you by your name and you must follow.
We live our lives waiting to be found, waiting to return,
Waiting for the black dog to find us. My other half.

I see him trailing, sniffing my path, smelling my skin,
Shivering, shaking, he brushed against my arm and it all went dark.
Fragile, a fragment of death blew past my nose,
I could have broken into a thousand parts,
I could have been found, but he stayed there, close enough
For me to see him, too close to hide.
My black dog, made me everything, made me God,
Made me consciousness, made me the great Abraxas.
I tasted his rough fur, just enough to live the rest of my life
With the impression that everything is so small,
But not tiny enough to crave death at every moment.

He sits in the corner, watching me, from a distance that seems too far.
I wonder why he didn’t take me when he had the chance,
It should have taken him a lifetime to find me, but here he is, so soon.
His ideas make sense, his words are thoughts that had never been said,
His touch is perfect, he terrifies me, but satisfies my yearning to feel pain,
Because that is how I feel alive. That is how I will live.
He shows me his power again, makes me lose all control,
Makes me succumb to the physical world, makes me human.
What does he want me to learn here, if I no longer fear him?
My black dog, howling again.