Song of the Beautiful Monster

Begin with the certainty of a song,
the beautiful monster of a certainty.

Ask, Monster, is this your truest form?
In this certainty, can your scales glitter, answering the full bright sun?
Can your wings unfurl, reaching till your jingling metal claws lift from the ground of their own accord?
Or, are you Leviathan in a tin can?
Monster, you and I can do better than this certainty.  

Find your benefactors: phoenix, hoopoe, rainbow,
every dragon that ever guarded the pearl of great price.
And I'll find mine.
That's the in-breath.

Notice: 
​with benefactors opening our back,
something smells a little musty up front,
something sounds a little bit like
You nutty fuckers are working my last compassionate nerve, 
and given how much I'm doing for you,
you could try just a little bit harder to be worth my efforts,
couldn't you?

We're done trying, Monster.
That's the out-breath.

Look around:
Everyone's hands are beautiful
Everyone's chest is beautiful
Everyone's monsters are beautiful.

You and I
You and I
All of us
Receiving
Extending
Deepening.