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At the edge of breath
when the ribs unhook
from their cage,
one question
waits 
did I play well?
The board was set
before my hands.
The dice were warm
with other lives.
Name,
blood,
time
issued without consent.
To play well
may be 
to press back
against the wind
just enough
to say
I was not only
carried.

February 21, 2026

A body walking on the road
Suddenly
as if it wished
to dissolve
into the road’s dark vein.
The “I” slipped.
Vanished.
As if the “I”
were a planted error,
A beautiful glitch.
The matrix runs
exactly like this.
Except perhaps
for people like us
A minor defect
in its code.
Thoughts arrive
like silent handlers,
escorting me away
from that raw pulse.
Thought has its own matrix
layer within layer.
So when I lean
toward 'it',
I remove thoughts
the way one leaves shoes
outside a temple
barefoot,
entering
what cannot be entered.
(Feb 13, 2026)

I am a footprint
in wet earth
clear for a moment,
then only earth again.

I am a clay cup
filled with breath,
placed among
a thousand other cups.
No one notices
which one holds the sky
for a while.

I walk like wind
through tall grass
the grass moves,
then forgets.

I am simply
a passing shape
of the same soil
that receives me.
(Feb 7, 2026)

This body, this breath,
these senses that drink the world,
this mind that turns within itself like a flame.
How can I
step outside of being human?
(Posted on Feb 2, 2026)

I have begun to drift
beyond the human shoreline,
yet thin ropes of skin and breath
keep tugging me back
to the familiar weight of bones.
That is okay
for I am not here
to complete any definition of spirituality,
not here to harden myself
inside borrowed molds.
I refuse to wrestle myself
into holiness.
Having treated the fevers
that come with being human,
I choose to remain
at the lowest possible altitude
where the body still casts a shadow
and hunger still speaks its language.
After all,
I am human.
And what I am
needs no apology.
(Feb 2, 2026)

When you realize you are a part of 'it',
the distance dissolves.
And then you feel the oneness
with the grand whole,
not feeling as if meeting
an outsider.
You may sing,
you may dance,
or simply close your eyes
to stay there.
But still remember that 'it'
does not require your submission,
nor demand your devotion,
or delight in your celebration.
For no one is there but you.
You do this for your own sake,
to fill the greatest void of your soul.
(Feb 1, 2026)

Beyond drifting,
what else can I do?
To console myself,
I move my hands, my feet-
it feels as if I am swimming
toward a shore
I cannot choose.
Yet something flows
close-so close-
though waves may cast me anywhere,
I remain gathered
around that presence-
which,
as long as I am,
will be with me.
(Jan 28, 2026)

If I speak plainly,
you won’t believe me
there is no great firework
hidden behind the veil.
No summit
where drums wait
for your arrival.
Those who dance
mistake movement for arrival.
They may smile,
but stillness isn’t there.
There is no peace
and no one
left to receive it.
The seeker dissolves
before peace can be claimed.
Nothing is meant
to be gathered.
What you will do
is throw away
the bowl
you’ve been standing with,
cupped in your hands,
filled to the brim.
Not because
you want to fill it
with something else,
but because
the bowl itself
must be discarded.
It will seem
you wandered for nothing,
clutching a hollow circle.
Yet the road
does not end.
Walking continues
without a bowl,
without a destination.
No, I am not enlightened 
This is not about enlightenment
(Jan 25, 2026)

The world
extends a bowl
not empty,
not free.
Each gift
has a thread tied to it,
thin,
almost invisible,
but strong enough
to pull.
Hands that reach often
learn the weight of holding.
Those who sip lightly,
who set the bowl down
before thirst becomes habit,
walk with fewer shadows
clinging to their feet.
Detachment
is not refusal
it is knowing
when to loosen the fingers,
and let the river
pass
without trying
to carry it home.
(Jan 25, 2026)

When everything falls quiet,
I discover new weather
the wind of unspoken things,
the long horizon
where feeling walks
without needing a name.
(Jan 24, 2026)