the first to go away,
3pm, never sure,
uncertain of things I believe
certain of things I see
myself– inventing and reinventing scenes, stories, scents
words, meanings, meanings in meanings…
in droplets of water, salt, feelings,
as everything around contradicts itself:
ink when put against the paper
water against the earth
I against this chair that could have been my bed.
everything leaves footprints,
like the hand who saved what should have not been saved
like the hand who killed what should have not been killed
as everything goes in– inside
loops on top of loops
on top of loops…
to define and define,
and meaning to give,
and thoughts to spread,
to prove– prove that we are not done,
not there– yet!
but we will be.
(when the last of what was goes and gets replaced
by the one who is not yet here,
the flow will change
the human will understand
the bells will ring
and all the Universe will know,
WE WERE HERE!)
each and every single being
a whole world,
a whole galaxy,
that came from what was
to become what later it will be.
I don’t know why this matters,
what is this,
or why I am even writing about this,
or why the color of my eyes is like this,
or why do I sweat and cry,
get tired and laugh,
get sad, cut, loved, love, alive…
tell the truth then get nervous!
I just know that I am truth itself!
but so is everyone else.