THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM

Droplets form at the corners of the cosmos, dripping, glittering things that dance and silhouette in gold as their rivulets flutter and vanish and reappear.

Ease yourself away and you’ll see them there, little friends as we buzz and whir and bleep and bloop. Faithful little friends that have always been there in the center of you.

Wind rushes from nowhere in that happy void, colors of amber and merlot, twisting colors that smell of sandalwood and kiss your buds as you taste them.

And the ones who came before are all there inside, and haven’t left, and are buzzing and whirring and bleeping and blooping just the same as they did before, just in a different way.

This breath is the only breath, the next a dream and a wish till it’s inhaled, till it fills up the machine and refreshes the tiny cosmos.

Future is nothing, a silly little whimper on a cold morning telling you what it thinks, but it’s blind. Has eyes but doesn’t use them.

Past is nothing, a frittering game of closed doors and drawers, of comings and goings, but it’s mute. Has a mouth but doesn’t use it.

Here is now, and the birds know this. Here is now, and the plants know this. Here is now and the stars know this as they glimmer and wink and fill your cosmos with their own.

Little whispered kisses go earbound and hot breath meets them there, a rendezvous. More are sprouting all the time, it’s impossible to count them all.

Humored dogs open mouths and wag tails and lap at pools and sun and speak as the whole thing just goes on and on and on andonandonandon.

Sparkling touches sent between two halves of the whole, lightning at the fingers and at the toes too. There’s enough to start a new cosmos, which will always happen in time, and always will.

Little winked looks go eyebound and rose-tinted smiles meet them there, a rendezvous. Furtive ones are sprouting all the time, and they’re getting more bold.

And it was then and you were there with your little pack and your wide eyes and your sight in the dark with dizzying peaks speaking your name just as long as you listened.

Your name is not your own but just borrowed for a time, just handed to you for a spell so you can wear it out and give it a rest for the next one.

You is you is you is you is you is you is you is you isyouisyouisyouisyouisyouisyouisyouisyouisyou.

The words don’t matter, but the sounds do, tell them all that and see what they’ll say with their looks and their smiles and their thoughts kept crypted betwixt two hanging earlobes.

Say it a million times and a million more, any word will do, and you’ll see for yourself. Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes.

Cause all we are is twisting and turning things for a while before the intermission comes, cause all we are is dancing in the sun till we’ve had enough and want to try another game.

And you and me and everyone we see is inside, within, locked deep and sent to sleep within a cold and a fact and a training and a listen.

Mind is. That’s all folks is what you heard then and it’s all you’ll hear now, and that’s just fine because it’s all a dance. And no one ever dances to get to the other side of the room.

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