It's the soft exhale of
exhilaration
pulsating
mantra:
good, yes, now, right
acts precede
thoughts precede plans
hands still somehow rightly working
playing, more like
like when a cupboard opens
and you catch the falling glass
wondering what your hand is doing
but protracted
moments just like that but connected
a string of
experience that you could
later call
beautiful, after it ended
like the heartbeating
drums
talking across spans of forest
singing together in the
gloaming
players
praying and falling away
laying bare the rhythms deep below
the
forms
the
rules, the
words, that gave rise to it all
in the
beginning there was the
in the
being there is the
in the
dying there is the
while we're here to
sense it
while we
construct and
destroy it
good, yes, now, right
show me the
picture and I'll
show you the
message
spelled out in its ashes
I
swallow it whole and say it is