This is (enough)
Finding contentment inobservation, silence. We sit, breathe, think, feeling as we doloss, grief, and sufferingalongsidejoy, happiness, and relief. Somewhere amidst the noise,We are. This isenough.
absence/presence
For every threshold crossed, yet another new arises;The falling of the moon beckons the day, just as the dying sun calls her back to rise once more.There is no stone that has forever gone unturned, no sky which has not seen a cloud, no blade of grass which has not known the pressing of the wind upon its delicate form.Just as the world around us, we too fold and grow, blossom and wither, moving through the moments as if each were a season in a dream beyond the eyes of the waking world.We are here… then, we are not.
relief
notwithoutsome reckless, brokenfear, doubtself but clouta nuance of the viral so many spiralsignsor more like meaning inwhistle linesbirds on pinesorrow speak: dove ego peak, lovein crescendo aspuddles well, swellaboveno floor too lowthrough which for you to go, fall heart/wallhow to place, erase tracestart – goagain, crudely sofashioned as with pinsto the buttress of your own stoneiron smelt in forgecast to shape for, bornthat without formmight keep the harmarm, at length strengthto beno longer beneath, freesomething like the sunmore than bare teethhead dead, weight what comes, waithope for new days, bluefatethat might see through toyouand all that comes to mean heard,…
in the colors that I choose
in the colors that I choose;that I might hold close and in embrace find,not only You, but Me, as well,hope,arising from and grounded in,but extending beyondthe moment,or whatever that might mean. mu, something like an inner shiver,tendons and ligaments,the curve in your spine. delight, as the petals fall,ever so slowly,catching as they do the rays of light at just the right angle that they might be,for an instant at least,all that Is,directed towards my eyes and reaching Me,not as I was but as I am,not as a Stranger but something morefamiliar,warm like Homeadornedin the colors that I choose.
a crude apparatus
cobbled likedinner when you don’t careso much forthe finer things asgetting somethingin your reluctant stomachasidebile and a metallic ringing. staringstraight through and upto your chestnot for the soft spacesbut rather the cold and hardened space withinsomething like a knotthrough which once passed yoursemblance of what waswhich is nownothing but a spark in the potential of what could be once more. fear notor do;peer out at the ominous presenceknowingIt is peering toofrightenedor not, perhaps. break tieswith what was;it isn’t any longer. thisis all there is,until it is not.
Beyond / Within
Cracks,form and grow,spreading acrosslikedisease. Shattered. What lies beyond? |-| Frayed,the fabric rends,torn apartlikeeyelids. Opened wide. What lies within?
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Objects, and the Distance Between Them 