A Bandon: Finding Liberation
I pace the edge between begin and end
beyond the tether of self created.
I am not afraid to move.
I am afraid of standing still,
utterly still in this gray silence --
this 2:00 a.m. space
where the crow has long since cawed away
the busyness of a day --
where my purpose of being
is not yet linked to memory or knowing.
Absolute stillness, before the morning dove
has begun her lament,
I am awake,
whirling in the space between --
vertigo of the soul.
East opens beyond the sun
and west, an ocean abyss,
I am direction-less.
North and south,
a fading filament.
In this center threshold,
this 2:00 a.m. space, I am
at the same time,
both leaving and left behind.
Self and other.
I desert and am deserted,
defined in my defining.
I am both form and motion,
noun and verb,
I abandon and am abandoned.
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