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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