Who am I to project ordination?
A passenger on a canoe.
The diamond of its bow in space and in water.
My face, now reflected in the parting ripples.
Boundaries blurred.
If I’m perfectly still, my tear disturbs the surface.
More ripples.
What boundary?
Air and water?
I make water.
I inhale air.
To ordain what is part of me?
I make myself you and would
You chop down me? Chop down you?
Will my boundaries hold?
Can my skin contain my heart and
My mind
As they reach out to
Hold and comfort and destroy?
Light pouring out my fissures–
Do I dissolve as dry powder or melt, like Dali,
Waiting for my alien ancestors to tell me
“You’ve done well, come home.”
When will I learn to shed
This husk holding me within and
Emerge into everything?
Put Out to Pasture 
This is beautiful–and sad…💜 I think the emerging into everything is inevitable, it’s partly why we are sad.
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I’m so glad you could see that. Thank you!
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Hi, Maxie, good to read you again and thanks for your visit. Let’s keep emerging.
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Thank you! Nice to be back in this space with familiar faces
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