I am a created thing – made from dust, the same as every other form of moving dust; thinking thoughts of: Love, Self.
Time, time, time -
Moving dust – the so-called:
Alive like a created thing – in love with all the blessings of being made a moving form of dust, like:
Two shots too many and a pounding headache lying – as if dead – on sweat soaked sheets over a bed like a sink hole.
Holding your beloved with no intent but to truly belong! Finally in her arms I can say I’m home – and my wandering eye and wandering desire stop to rest upon words inscribed by this very pen – carved upon the page of my looping mind – carved through layers of paper:
I am a created thing!
Made from dust and brought up from nothing.
Made from dust and brought up in love.
Made from dust and brought up to learn.
Made from dust and brought down, only to return.
by Graham Henderson
Awareness like a bridge, and time: not that which you take to read this, nor that in which it’s written but the time between the two happenings. The unread time that must, and can’t, expand beyond my writing and your reading.
Awareness like a bridge fastened to this moment and the far shores of this moment. But not this moment in which I write, nor that in which you read, but the moment these words sit alone, written.
Awareness like a bridge, mankind like a page written by the pen of the most high.
Mankind read aloud!
A diffusing sound from the mouth of the most high.
Awareness like a light: the darkness where these words sit unread – the moment we’ve never seen.
Awareness like sleep – maybe in that unawareness we belong to the written but unread moment.
Sleep, where motive moves the images on the shifting surface of the still, silent, deep.
Awareness, the bridge beyond the deep where you read what I write, sent on a perpetually moving cart across the bridge between the shores of this moment – over what we refer to as the deep, or the written unread, or what we know as something like sleep – to the shores of that moment, which we know as something like now.
I dreamed: a colossal red beast, four legged, crushing trees and cabins. Far off, seen in valleys from mountain tops. I dreamed: a beast, and a breeze in the air like melting butter in a covered pan.
I dreamed: my high school friends trapped in a submarine, and me, floating beside them among coral reefs – caught in a circling current.
Awareness: a burning bridge we’re halfway across.
The impossible life.
The impassible life.
Awareness, a bridge above and inside the impossible life.
Awareness, an underground bridge subverting impassible life.