~
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
~