G R A V I T Y

The soft inside point
where fear never touches,
the will to live doesn’t exist
because existence lives forever
in the vastness of this silence.

And yet,
we tremble when it is approached.
Nothing knows like it knows.
No story remains.
Meaning is left
behind the infinite encompassing
dead air containing
all sound all at once,
compressed nucleus of roaring,
unfathomable boundlessness.

And yet,
we have eyes to see what we conceive.
And yet,
this light,
this blinding light,
destroys the quick black,
gasping-for-breath,
anything-to-hold-onto
orbit
around the void
at the center of it all.

How do we not leap into it?
How does it not consume us whole already?
With fire and fury,
tear away the structures that bind?
Plummeting into its endless embrace
to land with new skin,
new legs
to walk on the ground
that has always been.

The shaken,
all-too-real memory fades,
eventually,
as another sun rises.