To put myself out there, alone
With the environmental waveforms
Circulating and vibrating, to the tune
Of the exponentially raw passion
Such that in the search for this apparent stillness
It is the search for the unseen which is seen
It is the search for the not felt which is felt
Felt mostly by oneself
It is the beat
Of the bouncing psycho-rhythms
Which cycle through my body
Then, as one ventures, into the lower reaches
Those deeper features
Of love, of loss, of leverage, and of latitude
Which criss-cross, and zig-zag their way
Over, and beyond, and before the gratitude
Such that to find a balance, in the stillness
To find a calm, in the seen, and in the unseen
To find love, felt or not felt is one job of a thing
One job of a thing, to be left all unto itself
