2026

2025-01-02

The air rests over the lake heavy
pressed down by age, thick +++

Oxygen hesitates to enter your lungs,
clutching to it's space, fearful of
your touch.
you belong in a different time.

Become the seer, you must live.
Become the adventurer, you must breathe.
Become the worker, you must create.

The air breaks.

The ground moves quickly, forcefully
dictating where you are-
your touch.
you belong in a different space.

Become the apostle, you must die.
Become the student, you must eat.
Become the lover, you must preach.

The ground stills.

Have you found your time? Have you found your place?

It is not yours.