“Love your life in this moment, which is swirling with new creative passions, having dipped itself in your past’s residual dust, leaned itself into your desirings and filled its breathing with your love-yet-unknown, this moment is itself your greatest shadow, both seen and unseen by you”
And so spoke the knots as I leaned back against the bedpost.
Nothing said before was exactly said this way, as the moment is bringing with it an altogether new set of variables. There is no control.
I am not the thing that set foot in your garden yesterday or, if I am well enough to do so, tomorrow.
Underneath my carpet, a curious creature. Don’t ask me to look, I won’t.
Suspended in the air, a lost hurt which could be buried with the last thing You said.
Against the struggle, another leaning post. A sign to let the breath be the measurement.
So I set about to clean my room, unbothered by the creature under the carpet. The vacuuming understood something about silence, so I kept going until beads collected at the base of my neck, taking a trek to the curves.
Under the light of a single bulb someone said looked like a whirling globe, I told You how my grip was losing it’s stitches.
Underneath the sounds of horror are baby-geraniums. Underneath the scandal of self, is truer identity.
And knots know. Nothing can follow You, weighted as the world is.
The creature listens.
Need, drawn in a current of silence, breaks.