And I go crying over
My breakfast, the distance
Between its caw and the wind chime
Can be measured now
In seconds.
The symphony of flow
Serves our lives back
As meaning, what can
Be memorialized
And what can no longer
Be believed.
It turns us true so slowly
We only hear the bearings
As they click, not a moment
Before their aha moment
Of seeing how wrong
We were, and laughing.
The present is indifferent
To all the past that fills it up,
It only knows to keep going
Through it, not to lose it
But to lose resistance to what
Has loosened its hold:
The chaos of everything fallen
Held in dynamic swirl, mere colors
In a landscape of past, present, future --
All that we are
A process of becoming
What we already were.
