in the beginning it was us (part two)

i want nothing for myself, take it all away. show me once more, the reason underlying every corner—the object behind each word—is a process within contradictions. the shallow excess of the self against oneself, the rest as an illusion best captured between her thighs. as if your eyes could render the moon into squares and bear witness to the birth of fire. the bed gently bends our bodies into motion, the guy on the left picks up a quarter from the sidewalk, spring rolls by unattended. a dancer in the dark is never a dancer when the lights come on. this is what i tell my children: in the beginning it was us, our reluctance to participate. yet the expert whistler always found a tune wide enough to hold entire families of breath. in the beginning it was us, our reluctance to participate, the fear that binds us into action. sometimes, even a distant sound is recognized within silence, brought to its knees.