The rose is gently thrown by the evenings wind
And the gentle tremors underfoot, til
The way is no longer clear
Or even pertinent
[ Another chorus of wind begins ]
It sways directionless, but now wanting to know
Do you want to know? Listen...
"Nothing"

The whirlwind explodes and the
Spectrum of light suggests, what?
Wait, don't speak yet
It gets better the less you know

Don't look too deep;
From the top pole, to the bottom rung
The enemy is WITHIN
Fabricated notions agreed upon
Do not always facilitate
The fluxuation of reality's intent

We've both seen aspects of its expression
Just enough to find separation, between us
So that, when our fleeting connections are established
We can wiggle in secretive delight

So, this is how I come to you
Humbled. Worn. Hypercurious.

I close my eyes and reflect upon the movements seen
Then, three dimensional space is established
In this moment of internal reflection,
And the dance begins anew

What do you see?