I know this lifetime is only a wooden structure
— struts and beams of longing and achieving.
I know beyond samsara and economics
there are colours I have never seen
that would send me into euphoria.
And over there, time is something we laugh at.
Like when my son said,
Remember when I thought if I
swallowed watermelon seeds they’d grow in my stomach?
And we laugh.
Ya, time, it never existed to begin with.
I know I’m living on multiple plains,
as a violet light ray, as a mechanic in Tibet,
and a stellar amoeba cleaning doubt from the atmosphere.
I am the Supreme God generating the original and eternal space.
I know that before there was The Word there was (and always will be) Space.
It is the canvas of reality and Light is the ink of our story.
I understand how Venus weaves Love into a generous geometry.
I worship her, so I know.
I get it.
But I’m holding on to here —
to music, and linen, and the white berries that grow by the lake.
I love how gravity holds me when I dance.
And when I decide to burn down this house and all the agreements in it, I’m going to take rhythm, and the fruit seeds,
and the colour of your eyes with me everywhere I go.