Here in the light
that forever fights the darkness,
we exist. Incomplete
nothing more than sentience yet
always there’s a surplus;
effervescence of neurological excess,
the contingent biological flesh
by the thoughts that haunt us
always finding ways to evade our gaze.
We call this thing our Self.
We can never own it, never know it,
or calmly asking
but we can find it,
in other eyes.
“The moment exists only in silence…” – Søren Kierkegaard
I like our silences,
those shared moments
transcending the hungry gaze,
that float into
a simple but absolute attention.
I like it when we're quiet
because then, when
our eyes meet & I see you seeing me,
I can believe
in the existence
of what you see.
Your silence is still & speaks to me
like star-light speaks of intense heat:
defined by perspective & proximity,
revealing in concealment,
traversing immense distance
to bring colour,
In silence, as in soil,
slow roots grow strong,
& the dilation of every second
the depraved authority of time; we
cease to be a complex pattern
a fabric of neurons
& electrostatic dreaming,
something I am only sure exists when
we twist together between & beneath
sharing our body heat,
giving the prayer of our attention &
seeing beyond the iris reflection,
to where it lays waiting
in the silence.
* Attention and Will – Simone Weil