it is or it is not

a lifetime of watching the light

anticipating 

being correct 

but just slightly to the soft

side of

the dough

of time

rising up 

in a round chest 

setting down in the round 

an imperative mesh

were someone to come

to me

to come to me?

asking for redress

for their moments spent 

missing the million spiders

pulling this beam taught

just to let it and them awash

i would  

i would? 

place a hand on each plane of their

frame and simply push 

downward 

to you go above

and beyond

those people in rockets 

those over 

achievers and 

archers

the way of the sun

played perfectly to the tuned turned surface of 

earth is easy 

to perceive 

here, take this stick 

here 

look at this 

window shift 

this moment slip 

this rock flip 

but to explain the day

means to let light pour 

out away

forth from 

so one must first 

know that

it is the task of no one 

to hold it 

forth for  

being fairly certain 

to be a simple witness 

in warmth 

or density

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i guess i am always dreaming of a practice of being alive and apart of this world, a place and purpose recognized as a value, that consists of being one who simply records the light of a location as it changes.

it gets me thinking about the earth never-not turning on its axis never-not in orbit around the sun and the sun being the source of the light, even in electricity, even in fire. and how light in constant motion most perceptible at the precipice informs a rudimentary understanding of the nature of this life, keeps illuminated in consciousness the complimentary essence of constant change and constant cycle. then what does the static lightbulb, screen, LED do? having everything seem as though it will go on, forever? never flickering, never wandering its eye up the wall or watching your cat from one sleeping spot to the next, staying put, projecting a singular direction from a singular location. sticking its tongue out at the sun as it is called to the other side (how strange and confusing to live on a round planet and yet there are this flat halves, above and below, side to side.) disregarding the stars as ineffectual, rendering the life-bearing flame merely hazardous. 

what does it do to a sense of reality - perhaps defined as how systems of energy and life coordinate and conduct and harmonize outside of human effort and manipulation - in this existence to render light static and unwavering? and how then do we place the self among it all, in responsibility and in its relinquishment.