Sense of Self

As my moments slip under slick wet stones,

I move silkworms above them,

run from rock to round rock

like swift golden sunlight in a rippled stream,

and weave softness where I wake.

 

Seduced by the smoothest spring water

when I dive into my blurry eyes,

revering a sight of eternal motion

water color paintings, mirrored sky

through physics, the element of life,

a canvass where I swim.

Reviews

[Just B]

The juxtaposition you've set up here, whether intentional or not, is excellent. Using words that lack control, such as "slip" "slick" "run" "seduced" regarding "moments" and "physics" with those of creation and control, such as "move" "weave" "dive" and "canvass," you've beautifully laid out how you have power and the ability to make, except not, or only to some extent. I enjoyed it!