there is a cold shine beyond my window. all that depends on the return of the sun. how could we not continue to revere it?
a universal law, a constant. the leaves eat, exhale, fill our lungs with a translation of light. every broken-down region, glow, sound of snoring. trouble, towers falling. growing, charming, longing. a double vision. more than two congruent.
a sun that wakes and fills the sky, nothing more and nothing less than shine. radiating in all directions, forward, every sideways glance, walk and feel all there is to know and open, bring to a close, scrape a beginning. so lay down
at the speed of blood, how many sloshes per minute, pumping forward and back, jumping in, sideways, whatways, wherever the drum keeps its steady algorithm of continue until nightfall.
it’s my passion that seeks to rise, open eyes and uncurled fingers, no fists to follow no dreams of this or that, all the light you can bring to paint into every surface. the day has a hint of night and it is called shadow.