Making Something Of It

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?

(Laughter.)