Not because I think I am important
Or I have something important to say
It’s just the way the words come
And I’m just fine with that
I remind myself
To love and revere every being
Every living thing as if
Each were a god or bodhisattva
Time is always active
Always present
Always changing
Only consciousness
Forgets
Or represses
Time is always moving
Cultures move on
People move on
Something
Tantalizingly near
Excruciatingly remote
Intangibly real
Exquisitely beautiful
A mote
In the corner of one eye
Visible only
In the periphery
Invisible looking straight on
And I wonder
At how we build so high
When we worship our gods
Or when we think
We have become them
After a while
All anyone sees of me
Is the walls
After a while
All that is left of me
Is the walls
No, the words are there
They are always there
But I cannot hear them
Cannot see them
And so the world seems grey
Sounds like white noise
The guileless hum
Of a refrigerator
I feel it
Creeping up
From behind
Feel it
Entering me
Affecting me
But in the mirror
The effects of time
Are too subtle
Too slow
In the way we move
On the dance floor
In the way we act
In times of tragedy
In the things we build
As monuments to significance
I try to remind myself of this
In the low moments
When I feel anything but grace
Anything but graceful
Pix to Words 