it matters not!
it matters not!
it matters not!
the sound of nothing that never comes buzzes in my ears,
then it goes;
I write.

movement, sound, form, texture,
and I just want to know how it felt like
back then,
and how it feels now.

I am blind, somehow
for seeing the whole page
in every page;
but there are lines.
which follow a pattern of being,
breathing and living–
the mind creates stories
the beginning of which never matches their end;
but nevertheless, it flows.
it just flows and with it it takes whatever it gets:
philosophy, religion, psychology,
love… the mind has no place in the matters of the heart,
it always makes one.

and the more it takes
the harder everything becomes:

all it takes is a slip,
a slip you once did
and all the worlds fall down.

you lost,
and by losing,
you won.



One thought on “hollow

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