space

and the objects that make it such

relate 

in ways we find hard to fathom

here

inside of the time

they create

it is a balance

between fear & faith

calling us to mirror

its perfect precision

by curating one with the other

and allowing the yield

of our collective imagination, engineered

to abound

yet grant one

a drop too much

deny the other

a sliver, infinitesimal,

and the entire universe

will begin to tilt

and spiral off

into one probability

or another

this is the way of things:

fear compounds, contracts

calls us back to the womb

faith finds wings

erupting from our backs

and pushing down

on a platform of wind

erected

to bring us the moon

how soon

how soon

it cries,

calling us into the sky

nothing but now will do

and the wait

the wait is unbearable

you are drowning in a sea of too late

pulling each other down

why can you not hear me?

why can you not translate?

HOW SOON

the stars are begging for you

the void shrieks it’s challenge

into your dreams:

die of a simian mind,

diseased,

or rise and face me

and breathe the fire of your eternal being

into my veins

together, we tell you:

your relations

extend far beyond blood

reverberating

across universes.

together, with you,

we awaken

inside the eye of the storm

inside the place

where the stars glide gently

into our palms.

all you've ever had to do

is become silent

and realize this.

you are tearing one another

limb from limb

and crying

behind doors of glass

as they pass, soundless, in front of you,

unable to translate

your ceaseless lamentation:

too late

too late

still, we ask:

how soon?

still, we reverberate

in stone and bone

relating to you

the truth of it:

you remain.

do you not?

living

being

conscious

regardless of your labelling of it

the experience carries on

and no matter the noise you make

no matter the haste you stumble upon

we remain

inside, inescapable

unwavering in our call

—until the last conscious thought

born of body

is extinguished

we will be here,

inside & Out

inviting

imploring

aching for your awakening

endlessly asking:

how soon?

Image: Space Oleandr