What is it to be alone?
To create music with words?
To dance without movement?
To see with eyes closed?
Then comes the dread again,
the belly-sickening rawness,
far beyond the tears that fall
in morning tea,
the core untethering from the illusions
of embodiment.
And I know well,
while it brings me to my knees,
It’s nothing,
clearing the way
to everything…