When most things are in place
Occasionally one is out
Through the top of the circus tent
I find myself exploding
Soaring into the sky without
Understanding every way
Every possible why
Each movement always so
Calculated until one is not
The happenstance is a different
Kind of stress a different
Type of letting go a different
Scent then I have smelled before
But it arouses me in a
Nuclear sort of way
A hiss and a pop and
Every essence flows
Like a river before me
Into the abyss of everything
And nothing and then
Everything again
© GÄ