Edges

razor thin.

the ocean.

noise,

in the middle of silence.

like light

taking all of the dark.

you speak 

in the middle of my silence

and i cannot hear 

the ocean

inside my head.

i cannot feel

the cut,

nor guide precision.

this is exacting,

important,

crucial.

as time crumbles 

under scrutiny

i follow

the falling of apartness,

trace the echo

of god’s first sound

back to approximate

abyss.

Image

 

 

 

 

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