The story, barely begun, meets silence today
A change from the customary making something of it
No momentum forward, no pull back
Bemused by the lack of movement
I sit, and do nothing
The aliveness of my senses wholly apparent
Then a question comes: what is here?
I sit and wait, the answer beyond comprehension
Yet known nonetheless
Next, words come: I’ll take up all the space I want
Really? And how much space is that?
A pause. Then an aah.
Space does not take up space
It requires no special allocation
It now becomes clear that there’s something precious here
Which needs looking after
We can’t begin to know what it wants
Until we know that it’s not
What if I object to nothing, and things are as they are?