I’m finally taking a sit.
For the first time in years–just a conscious sit.
Butt comfy on a fake wooden chair in the middle of chaos-beginnings on the westside of Los Angeles. It found the right groove and I let it just be at home.
I’m attempting invisibility.
…by seeing into things, I feel unseen.
Perhaps that’s how it always was, is, and will be.
I see too far that I recede into the distant background out of anyone else’s gaze, reach, or embrace.
I’m moving further backward. I can feel it speeding up.
I move back and go in and out at the same time. I can feel the infinitude of my linear two-dimensional life fight the expansion invitation of the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and on…
Back to me. Receding back to me.
Away from you. And you. And all the yous.
Are there hands reaching for me? Will I be saved before I go under?
Or is this the end
of a beginning
[People-watching is more people listening.]
If I recede further, maybe I will escape even my own gaze, my own reach, my own embrace
And find God there. Alone. In the distance pulled back from all the rest of us wanting no more of our prayers.