• soniacookbroen

the little buoy

Tiny dots in the distance….only I would know those dots add up to the being that is you

there is a fog, we call time….

it looms in the space we allow it to fill, fill us, fill our breath-

an unanswered question, a pulse which quickens, a life passing right there, right before my eyes, a baby born at this very moment! How many babies are born? how many orgasms, right now, right in this very word which you are reading, a million sensuous screams ‘O’ the breath of the little life giving death!

There you are and there you go.

I am a slow swimmer and you are a tide sweeping me far away, far away, I forget the things that make this world…time, gravity, warm wet breath and the heavy touch of the matter.

something floats in the distance on the blue horizon, something red and white, is it tied to a string which falls to the floor? is it me?