Archive
03/14/09 - (1)
Saturday
This perfectly sun-glistening Saturday in mid-March, I find myself not, precisely speaking, adrift, Yet not exactly moored, either.
Perhaps I'm a force in between disoriented and shorebound, A wave rolling across a waterless ocean, Going nowhere, slowly, not under its own momentum.
Maybe I'm a dust speck, a dandelion seed, a star, Floating beneath an invisible bell jar Enclosing, in an absolute vacuum, millions of Milky Ways.
Possibly, I'm something neither animate nor intangible, Nothing, in a perpetual state of about-to-be everything, An idea containing infinities, without a mind to dream itself alive.
03/14/09 - (1)
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