You can make a me out of the most mundane things,
and drink and gravitational pull
and rotational calls
from beyond and forward reality
Flowing not Forcing.
Not clasping hands around the direction of your own reflection
if it be going it’s own way
Some need halt it.
Some need crush and curse and thirst
to fault it.
To control it
“I”s can’t keep “we”s from where we are supposed to be.
What might we Be,
Beneath the harshness
Something always brings me back.
And the ways that “I”s makes “We”s
and grow communities
to a reinterpretation of time and sound
Auld Lang on repeat like the seasons
Snowflake, raindrops and a crystallized present tense
Us and we and you to share
Pristine, wrapped and proper
and sloppier than planning
A fragile beautiful mess,
each of us.
Ever strong in our malleability.
Sculpted from the crust of imagination
Drenched in bottomless possibility.
Flourished in flow and synchronicity.