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A strange restlessness lives in me- a small fire beneath the ribs, a wind that never learns the meaning of stillness.
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A body walking on the road Suddenly as if it wished to dissolve into the road’s dark vein.
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At the edge of breath when the ribs unhook from their cage, one question waits did I play well?
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I am a footprint in wet earth clear for a moment, then only earth again.
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This body, this breath, these senses that drink the world, this mind that turns within itself like a flame.
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I have begun to drift beyond the human shoreline, yet thin ropes of skin and breath keep tugging me back to the familiar weight of bones.
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When you realize you are a part of 'it', the distance dissolves.
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Beyond drifting, what else can I do?
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If I speak plainly, you won’t believe me there is no great firework hidden behind the veil.
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The world extends a bowl not empty, not free.