proximoception (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
proximoception) wrote2013-12-05 01:07 am
proximoception) wrote2013-12-05 01:07 am
(no subject)
The air's transparence tricks us making us feel we could go everywhere.
Lines of where we might go shooting all about all through one another.
But it's never been drawings on a blank with us.
Much more like tunnels dug through a softness going almost everywhere hard.
We feel to find the soft again and dig.
But only can on closing our eyes to vasts and lines.
Where we can go it's all close in.
Each where we're new at filled with something else before we came a new else after.
No going without touching.
Every touch another go.
Lines of where we might go shooting all about all through one another.
But it's never been drawings on a blank with us.
Much more like tunnels dug through a softness going almost everywhere hard.
We feel to find the soft again and dig.
But only can on closing our eyes to vasts and lines.
Where we can go it's all close in.
Each where we're new at filled with something else before we came a new else after.
No going without touching.
Every touch another go.
no subject
Come, as two doves to one belovèd nest,
Twin nurslings of the all-sustaining air
On swift still wings glide down the atmosphere?
And, hark! their sweet, sad voices! 'tis despair
Mingled with love and then dissolved in sound.
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