every past sorrow of my life so far,
excavated from the totality of their meaninglessness,
has become worthwhile
if only for becoming the stepping stones,
across the misty tar-pit-ocean of time,
that have led me to know you in this moment,
even if it's only to be in this moment.

(these words are enough for now,
but they will be forgotten, perhaps slowly,
perhaps tomorrow.
if i find you again,
i will ask for more.
perhaps tomorrow i will find again the shore,
perhaps tomorrow, perhaps nevermore.)

we are propelled into a world
from nothing,
a vast world, a glorious and terrible world,
a world full of mystery, tragedy and laughter,
dancing, responsibility, horror and struggle,
ending in sickness and death;
a world stretching far back before us,
bloated with debt and expectations,
devoid of our consent, deaf to our cries.
at first a light blinding—hiding shadows—,
the horizon so open and terrain so broad,
but with every step, a piece of the world crumbles away,
another path, a mountain, an ocean, a face crumbles away
into nothingness—
with every step, a space gained and a place lost forever,
guilt, questions, freedom, new fitting chains,
a narrowed horizon—
with every step,
a fate refined—
with every choice: destiny,
to which we remain blind.

how good it is, then, that we might find travelling companions
that make all this worth our time,
and tools like language, memory and connectivity
to re-make all this into our own time,
and together, step over the horizon of history.

the shadows slowly encroach down the hall;
so suddenly the day is gone,
wasted, men and women somewhere struggled through it,
others buckled under it, sunken mid flight crossing oceans
and man made borders fleeing wars and geographical destitution,
children starved through it, profits were made,
and the room is steeped in darkness.
through the window i see
the white orb moon, distant, glowing, painted
onto an ice blue sky, dashed with ghostly clouds:
i look away for a moment,
i look back:
the sky turned to deep cobalt
and the moon, still distant, radiant, not departed,
is the face unchanged?
the sky so deep now,
this could be the depth of the ocean,
but the moon
still just beyond my fingertips.

the wheel turns
and gains no ground.
the wheel turns eternally
and in this endless moment
gains no ground.
the wheel turns,
wearing itself away
in the void and vacuum.
where is this place
if not where i find my love
without you?

the world turns;
how many more rotations
until i turn
—as the apex torsion
of all movement in the universe—
to see you?
there the world will be still
and true.

in search of time-images and full-body-moments
that send my heart
pounding like a thousand drums;
i know there are eyes out there, i know, i know,
—that aren't hell—
that can suspend me in that sublime kind of vertigo.

stumbling through the endless
snaking valley labyrinth of twisted letters,
lost, looking for you;
the shadows do not always inscribe fear—
what i fear is that you are
where i cannot reach.

greeting faces just to watch them go.
slipping away, the makings
of fragile eternity.
finding traces of you here, traces there:
i grasp them so close to my heart,
so tightly
that they are crushed.

the path between us
is made of words
and with every step i take,
i step on something jagged,
and i have so far to go
to a place i cannot even know is really out there.
(i go on, there's nowhere else
worth going.)

stumbling through the endless
snaking valley of twisted letters,
lost, looking for you;
the shadows do not always inscribe fear—
what i fear is that you are
where i cannot go.