~ the peculiar sound of morning during the long, boarded-up winter, resonating through a cistern set apart by thin waves of decaying reservoir
a hint of canticle in the unfounded wind, impossible to ignore, a series of collapsing oppositions like interior and exterior, self and other, the momentum conveys the sublimity of being, immersed in an unfathomable vastness, of being part of an indivisible whole
a repeated glitch in the system, our forever changing constellation of feelings and backward configurations, slipping into a stream, where the water precedes us, and it will outlast us
we don't so much carry life as allow ourselves to be carried along by it, swept up in its current for a little while ~