The Poet learns that presence is about returning again and again, like the cycle of water. |
Now When did the water turn to steam? Where did this drop of water meet that drop of water to become a lonely tear? When did the puddle disappear into thin air, thick with dancing molecules, bouncing into each other faster and faster in the warming air, kissed by the rays of the sun? Where did the salt separate from the water? How did this dream . . . And how did the rain know to turn to snow? And when did it? When did it slow to a floating flake? And how did this dream begin? And why did I not notice? Why did I not know this was happening? The asking of questions, asked now, as I again slow my breath, silently skating on the edge of thought or no thought, slipping into here, into now, as my thoughts gently float . . . . away . . . . . ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This poem is from "Bottle in the River" about a Poet's journey down a river, chasing a bottle tossed by the fingertips of "that I am." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Written within the parameters of the theory of "Multivalence" |