to bow consistently to what is alive in you

there is a romancing
of what it means
and what it feels like
to bow, consistently
to what is alive in you.

it is liberating, yes.
it is excruciating, yes.
it is volatile, yes.

it is 1000x more bearable than distancing,
distracting ourselves from ourselves,
conforming or blindly accepting the status quo, yes.

to be present to, to keep
company with what is alive
is to simultaneously grieve
what once was but is no longer beating.
it is to suffer a tiny death
with every birth, or iteration anew.

have you ever witnessed the changing
of seasons? have you ever felt the vibrancy
of summer as it slowly simmers to a crisp?
with its arrival, it is already departing
slowly, tenderly,
over milliseconds and
(almost) imperceivable moments
quickly slipping through our fingers
like sand.

and so it is, your existence
when you are alive to
what’s within. you notice
the infinitesimal shifts, what’s coming
isn’t just inevitable
but felt and seen, experienced
slowly—rapidly
at a careful and persistent pace.

every moment is entirely different
a new composition, again & again.

can you feel it?