Tuesday, December 16, 2014

...


I am Flying Away.
Something has loosened its meticulous hold on my edges
and like a careless garment I am Flying Away.

The place that raised me dissipates me 
and ushers me silently pineward saying, 
fearfulness, you are fearsome forever the sum
of a silent and mystical equation

strongest when broken, strongest when 
breathing, oblivious, taking in sun or streaming 
rain, strongest Every Moment, lovely and 
natural. 

The only part of myself for keeping is the 
finger of fire in my chest and not forever.

All else is shirked and shed as minutes.

All else is shook like snow from my jacket.

And I no longer speak a language of Despites. 
To think that not long ago I felt that 
I was Flying Away. 

I am familiar with this relationship between 
space and nearness. The lost drowning feeling 
of being far from the still surface of a moment,
of glassy gentle waves evading me or my body. 

I am familiar with strange newness rendered
casual and known.

I am not familiar with the moment beyond 
this moment, 

but the moment when the charged 
roiling stops- 


I am familiar with it

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