slowly, as the sun warms your hands, we share one mind, our intellect draws from the same library, and all of these footsteps on the trail wear down the forest floor to its finest dirt, like the lapping of the ocean so smooths these stones over centuries.
when i first see you, i can barely fathom you, that you are alive, that you are real, these many memories, this life-force watchful. and as time goes on, if it is time, we enter into the same sacred space, we draw from the same air, we are our pasts and our futures.
more is revealed every day, on every occasion, the most natural thing, as if time was flowing backwards, all of these people like the ocean, generations like waves, civilizations like tides, wearing the mind’s soul down to the finest grain of its essence.
now the sun is to the east, this barge nearly capsizes in mountainous waves, now a person is standing in the cold and wind, hair tousled like grass.
now the smoke from the smokestacks is ultrawhite in the gelid air, quicksilver over the water.
now in the heart like a womb, now in the center, into the fibers of your progenitors and theirs, back to the source of the sea spray of these crashing waves, of this warming sun, something calls.