today, i am not writing;
i am hearing a language
that i do not quite understand
the vocabulary, given in flashes,
where veils, so to speak,
part to reveal a grander intention
than the one displayed
by you, or you,
or you
there is something else,
out there,
in there
~
one sense blends into another
and my heart becomes the crown of them all
i give myself over, one kernel at a time;
i deconstruct myself, one brick at a time
to see what is in the spaces between
there is something else out there,
in there
~
there is no reason
why i shouldn’t be able
to taste the freshness
of a moment
why
i shouldn’t be able
to hear everything
that was ever said as truth
why i shouldn’t be able
to see through
to what remains
after the last of the bricks is removed
~
i don’t write these words
because i know any more than you know
i write them because
like you, i knew something once,
but i’ve forgotten
~
ask, to speak to you,
every moment, every breath,
every embrace
you are,
you are,
you are
what you have always been
and what you will always be
saara 