I am

I am / dust suspended,

I am
dust suspended,

where clocks stop
and fan blades cease.

To breathe in
the transitory

is to flat line
into oneself.

I am
outside convention

and illusion 
is what we are.

A mind folded
in on itself,

inhabiting space 
at scale.

To be
sunk in

with timelines
of alternate forms.

Wrapped 
in universal acuity

and flowing down
in warmth.

I am
crisp acceptance in

where clarity comes
like the tides.

To feel within
is what we see,

so reach for the calm
and sit with the friction.

I am
that being.


By: Trevor Kuether