150

what if we spoke
from the world instead?

.
.

149

it didn't seem to matter where he was, or where he went, his doubt,
as well as that of others, always followed him – even more faithfully
than his own shadow.

.
.

148

he could often be found
looking out the window,
gazing towards the origin.
until that inevitable day
when he will have turned
and gone to stand blind
on the threshold.

.
.

147

being a true friend,
grief was always
there for him.

.
.

146

rising early he took the opportunity to watch the world form.

the rest of the day would then be spent wondering why it never
actually amounted to anything substantial.

.
.

145

to his ever-increasing dismay, he came to suspect that it wasn't the truth
that was being sought, but rather only the experience of truth--and even
then only if it was pleasant.

.
.

144

it was easy to turn away from himself, or so it seemed, but no matter
how hard he tried it seemed impossible to turn away from others.

.
.

143

cupping his hand to his ear,
he closed his eyes
and held his breath,
listening for even
the faintest echo
of the light.

.
.

142

all too aware

of the fragility of the world,

he retreated into his shell

in order to reacquaint himself

with his own.

.

.

141

twigs... pebbles...
shards of glass...
even scattered,
suffice as nest.
.
.

140

perhaps life
itself was
the fissure.
.
.

139

messiahs,
if messiahs there were,
grew slowly,
had to be tended with care.
although he suspected
that any fruit they might bear
was already to be found,
full and ripe, in the hole
into which the seed
had fallen.
.
.

138

gently lifting the veil,
he discovered the obvious:
nothing had been hidden after all.
.
.

137

in spite of everything,
the sky always found its place —
even when scattered across the lawn.
.
.

136

silence too
was waiting
to be slayed.
.
.

135

needing something warm to drink,
he put an empty tea bag
into an empty cup
and let it steep.

.

134

the time had come
to let the world
dictate his vision

.

133

one day, passing the shelves in his garage, he thought that it might be
worth an attempt to store the sun in some jars. over the following
weeks he carefully bottled what he felt would be a sufficient amount in
case of emergency. but after the winter had passed, he looked at the
glowing collection and thought it all seemed so selfish; so he took off
all the lids and waited for the clouds.

132

he constructed monuments
to a forgotten gaze.

.

131

over the years he had come to prefer the existence of a hermit--
it was so much easier to renounce his solitude when he was alone.

.