it is a great shock,
to most, that even
stillness after a time
grows stale, festers
into an uncomfortable
ache of grinding bones
grinding no more.
how we are all unborn
in a womb no longer built
to hold us & every man is
too big in a world too vast
for him to claim & yet still
we break the space around
us, rearrange even the
unspooling threads of
shadow & wait for
the opening.