And I ask
I don’t understand the question
But something to making each letter count
the beauty and the ease I am seeking
The handwriting of my grandfather lives on
Maybe that’s why I want to know him so bad
Gayer writing equals grander ideas
But mantras for everything?
They say Om.
they say we are the we are,
the existence is the cause,
not formulating a new thought,
until the last one is finished.
The dexterity hurting my hand my eyes my brain
but calming my heart.
Singing songs from the cheat chest and not from
the bleak infrastructure of human connection beyond
All there is, is.
All that feels, feels.
All that knows, knows nothing.
Beyond the outer reaches of gravel lined ages,
I stand ready to fill the spirit that called a body,
the source that needed my voice
not hidden behind others
alone and shone by day’s light.