I don’t intend to discuss this, but you may listen. When you do, you will have
disappeared from your life. As I have now disappeared from mine.
Don’t be afraid. This could be beneficial. It could be a way of saying I love you to
some part of yourself caught snooping. When you find a door, open it.
This is no place for fear. This place is a palace, filled with emptiness and splendor,
a place to come to even though it has no answers.
It didn’t intend to, but it took over.
I’m listening. Are you the one speaking?
Are you a rug or an umbrella? Are you the stone floor of the old house it rests in?
Here it comes with its robe open and its limbs askew. Is that you?
I’m listening. My day and my day and my day, your speech relaying.
O ordinary, need I address you so? Are you my firmament or my cement?
I was not made by this. That’s how I live here.
Rich Ives is the author of Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days currently being published in serial @ Silenced Press everyday in 2014 and forthcoming in paperback. Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily. Just refer to the Burrow Guide.