October 28, 2002 (I was 57)
without wind its scent emanates
unseen it enters the light
soundlessly it vibrates
existence
lacking surface or texture
it expands
like the taste of salt
under the tongue and into
the blood
it is the minimalism that
becomes one
a restrictive essence not the
other
the this of a succession of
nows
the definition of the word
and the consciousness of
self
the fruition the expression
the realization
of the so much more beyond
the doubt of insignificance
knowing both past and
future are then
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