Timeless

Always it has begun;
I never think 
                 Now        it begins!

(Will I ever take a 
very first breath?)

Perhaps I am oblivious to rebirth
or the way timeline disappears
in a light rain, myself drawing a row of cars
doggedly down the rail,
aligning words on a spotty screen,
carrying heavy footfalls always 
in some direction, carrying my body
or other consequences toward a horizon 
that must point to an end
in this perspective drawing.

Yet I know in my soul that the trees are never 
fully still,
nor the hands.

Home also is this fascia between 
things meant to move –
it keeps and flows according 
to hold and motion, 
it is what it is. 
While I, Human, bring hamper after hamper 
fresh from the dryer,
queries dumped in clean crumple upon the word:
h  o  m  e  

         Now, smile to yourself.
         Breathe in.