"Always we begin again." ~ St. Benedict

zero is the loneliest number
because it's empty
   -a hole for filling
but if you change your perspective
       the bottom can be the top

the first sign of growth
                      was a hair
     nothing impressive
    just a single strand
   breaking the surface
  in search of freedom
but that didn't stand for long

isolation gave way to conformity
as the grades came
    hair after hair
clumps         communities         culture
strands bowing under brush
parting        under        comb
hair can be tamed like anything else
duress, product and consistency
             wash   rinse   repeat
duress, product and consistency

never was one for riding waves
waved goodbye to that trend long ago
                                                             ­         grew past it
and figured nature knew best
knew how to sprout and flourish on its own
if left unattended

a bush was a phase                                             until it wasn't
shaved down to a surface
                                                     -fla­t-
something to sit atop and add flair
still couldn't much care
   guess I was a factor
but there was still no product

then society issued a dare
I double, triple dog dare you...
                                                          ­to be
and that was the impetus
because I have always been
  regardless of form
hair shed singularity
         knotted to bond
    condensed into a twist
          that bound memory and experience
                               into a journey of self-exploration

and I suppose the true journey started
long before I remember
  but palm rolls have traced lines to their origin
  roots below the surface recognized
  and left to their own design
twisters locked in dust   lent   dandruff
                         and core
all misjudged together
      how long can you go without censoring yourself?

I grew and grew and was and am and will be
         for 6 years 5 months and 18 days
         I was locked and loaded for self
zero was lifetimes ago
         ages prior to confidence
the mane does not make the lion
      but it certainly helps
I took a pilgrimage within a pilgrimage
made a metta meditation of movement
   before I knew love's true touch
                                                          a­nd then
            when head needed it the most
                                                            ­                                dread vanished
and made way for a universe

of all the memories created to forget
                 touch is the most lasting
the scalp is still anointed
from oil years past
                                                            ­   when scissors did meet
life shook with a force renewed
  and shed bare all that was needed

I was born with nothing
now ???  years ?? months and ? days later
I am yet again at zero
  but now, I know
it's not on me
                           it's in me

what’s a legacy to an ever-spinning web
    an apathetic world
               already on to the next meme
a laugh can last longer than
  your     entire     life’s     catalogue
impact buried under coded language
and refreshing trends

if a spider cared
it would wrap its prayers in silk
   before spewing its insides
but the net is wider than floating words
or hollow deeds
                                     **** your ego

we are only passing through
              dust     to     dust
in death we are nothing

he spent a lifetime watching the sky
                                                   the mountains
                                    the rivers
listening to the wind
       ~all the
                   things it
                                 carried and
                                                      unburde­ned

whole rings were dedicated to thinking
                                                  to 'understanding'
though he was ever- expanding
                   and never the same

he spent a lifetime searching
for comfort in answers
for ideas in letters and numbers
                                           is God by any name God

birds have their own way
                                    of praise
trees bow instead of kneeling
                  listening does not mean hearing
                  sight does not mean vision
                  knowledge does not mean understanding
                                           maybe God is a question
and language is the wrong medium

half the world away is a truth
he’s never heard
  in a tongue he’s never spoken
but the sky still stretches
       the mountains still stand
       the rivers still flow
                 and the wind still carries the message
                                                         ­                 of everything

I been wandering aimless
and peeping the synchronicities
I been reading other's words
and deciphering my truth
I been tutoring the youth
and learning from their mentorship
I been slinking out               [of relation-ships]
and treading in myself
I been sitting in silence
and feeling through the noise
I been abstaining from my vices
but creating new distractions
                                                    ­  I been making new playlists
                                                      a­nd blending the genres
                                                      I been triple checking accounts
                                                      an­d noting the trends
                                                      I been avoiding top priorities
                                                      ­and focusing on side quests
                                                      I been writing off the future
but deepening in the now
I been sharing the best of me
while keeping solitude with my shadows
I been becoming my higher self
day by
              day
                      by day
curating a person I can be proud of
                                                              ­ /proud for
I been
and will be