colors of the undwelt, the violence of
letting go--read in the expression of flesh.
hidden away in garbage, forests, coffins--
right now.
as on this day dying so young.
the mourned as the mourner bore away--
to gradually put to light that moment again.
it feels as though spirits deplete nothingness to get at a moment that's
its own.
their powers of observation seem to command: look still, look still, look still!
if direction is traffic's singular will, &
motion is salvation--imagine if motion stops short of what has come to pass.
it would be as if spirits realized they were
breathing for no reason.
that there are far more delicate balances
held therein.
it's as if darkness becomes more of light than ever, & light becomes more of darkness than ever.
right when polarities are most distinct, they assume the other polarity through
relinquishment.