words. consciousness. thought. things from the void that is not of it. nothing of what is now being writ is resembling anything that is of the void. and yet. the possibility is there. its in the mind.
until its not.
where did the footprint leave its mark? it can only be remembered. but what about the foot? where is it walking to? it doesn't matter. it just walks. like plants grow and winds blow and skies touch other skies touch other skies and spaces too far to reach with my hands go on extending while i wonder about how the length of my arm remains the same.
my arms extend to reach anyway. or perhaps they are flailing from the fall. my eyes keep looking and what is seen looks back. did it matter if it was closed or open when even in the darkness, the darkness is apparent?
how did a voice find its way into my mouth? complete with intention and conviction. images of arrows and sometimes bullets emerge from other mouths, back and forth reverberating sound. what kind of sound does a kiss make?
is that how a voice comes back to where it came from?
traveling. in transit. motion in the ocean from an airplane is simply the color blue. what its like to think of the sea from the sky and from under it are two different worlds.