the involved mind is reams bound, perceptions woven,
crosshatched, all that we are
the assembly of tidy bundles,
of things that need to be
I open a window to let the strong breeze blow and scatter it all about,
oh, god how delicious the salt on the air, the wet primeval scent…
“…wane light, timeless light, faded surf on sand
foams slower tonight than when we used to stroll…”
all motion, sound, the heart…
simply stop
let us vow to continue to roam
in the face of this newfound vantage
Chagall 2020
