I understand – scant and hungry – a thirst to be. To see. To stand on a rock – firm – and translate every atom into the universal gaze, which meets my own as I stop. To be, to see, to stand still. The accumulation of my physical being prespiring, conspiring in beads of sweat, beads running like improbable men on transparent threads: an incessant flow, and whirl, and wind, disarranging me.<\/p>\n
What life is this, lived on the back of time? Hijacked by minutes and hours, until I slow and fall apart – a fracture in time. The scent of a lemon teases nostrils, ants scramble underneath feet. I blinked too often and failed my watch. To see as I wake up out of my trance delivers fresh life.<\/p>\n
Restless drop out of a conceptualized life. I mindfully place the heavy grocery bags on the ground. To stand on a rock – unstable and vulnerable – yielding life; I will take it. To stand, to see, to be. My legs tremble, so I sit. My eyes tire, I close my lids. My breath grows shallow, I surrender.<\/p>\n
So time is time and passes in whatever course time passes. I slide my palm between the hands of mere seconds and pause to regard the world inside and out. There; in both you settle, and I caress your hair, graze your lips. Still hungry, still thirsty, but no longer shy to live. I govern the sole of my thumb to trace the edge of your nail, glide along the root of your finger, hold tight your hand. What skin is mine? I step out of one world and into another. I consider attention a servant as I experience the breadth of emotion.<\/p>\n
You – yes, you – crossed my path, sank into my heart, left footprints, restored lost rhythms, tickled my flesh and coaxed love out of invisible cells. The sky’s intriguing dance embraces your laughter, painting its joy across the glow of the sun. Sunshine – you – rays of gratitude pour from me. I am content that we met in this lifetime. It may well have been different.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I understand – scant and hungry – a thirst to be. To see. To stand on a rock – firm – and translate every atom into the universal gaze, which meets my own as I stop. To be, to see, to stand still. The accumulation of my physical being prespiring, conspiring in beads of sweat, beads running like improbable men on transparent threads: an incessant flow, and whirl, and wind, disarranging me. What life is this, lived on the back of time? Hijacked by minutes and hours, until I slow and fall apart – a fracture in time. The scent of a lemon teases nostrils, ants scramble underneath feet. I … Until I stop<\/span> weiterlesen