from the secret world of common threads,
our tear-ducts pouring etheric fluids
from our common mindfulness that explores.
our shared breath-wealth
from the sling-hammock of common lungs.
comingled puzzle-piece behaviors,
cause for a greater interlocking frame of reference.
self-talk, overheard by the other
as tonal charm.
walk me back to before we were
in this moment,
we are eagles soaring
as in high contrast to then
from this point of view,
enough for me to say for myself,
I have wetlands
and native life within me abounds
where before,
the vacancy of the soil of me,
was just in a stare-down, facing the sun.
now-time is the hobby of life with leisure
where before,
the day filled with job interviews, for being.
and in high contrast to then,
there are the common chords of song
that we, in big-tent silence, sing.
themes of our diversity
rooted in the same soul-soil,
we are the inner work of beavers
tilling the personal landscape of self,
in search for profounder life.
we didn’t have experience for results.
we were a mutuality for expression.
experience wasn’t for the results.
our experience together
was for the uproar and the out-pore . . .
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