Innerdialects

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Your eyes follow these lines in an invisibility with no name but the moment is called Reading.

Our lives breathe, in an invisibility with no name but the moment is called Life.

Our blood flows with a throb we can touch and the moment is called a Pulse.

Our thoughts are in cages like bird-songs and we may call these the doing of a Mind.

Our touch reaches depths of human suffering and this can be called healing

We pray and ask in the language of broken things and can receive what you’d call answers

Answers can be meteors on a boring night or a mountain goat smiling and these are miracles

or they (answers) can be invisible to us like water tables under foot, or

they can be the brilliance of pain/ human suffering; & it makes us shockingly tender –

but we may find such Kindness dull, unrelatable because we have no reference to it

we’d rather believe that trees are gods and oceans their thrones, and that’s the end of that

Tragic conclusions. Immortality shrugs, sends Jesus, and waits decades, centuries,

Death is invisible proof of life everyday; some might call this phenomenon unrelatable –

whether we write or read or think, we have Invisible insides called the Soul and

these are immortal. Its best we get related as soon as possible. As soon as possible.

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