Within the silent second of a breath

Is the thingness of the thing

Shiny enticing glimpses

That make your heart beat faster

Not knowing anything 

Knowing everything about a small nothing

Glad to be on this spot now knowing everything and nothing all at once

Like breathing 

Is a miracle

Like the moth still alive in a pack of spinach

We survive 

But our bodies weakness is the enemy of consciousness

If art puts truth to work then the body is art and the truth is the work of life

But what does that grinding of stone signify?

The need to dwell? To remain in one place, in order to work, is this the truth you were looking for. Sat staring out on the wettest day of the year

The rain tears over the roof.