Were it not for this engagement,
for the conviction spawned 
out of a reassuring conflagration 
of grit, and its enduring song,
I would not know the life I'm living,
the stream of movements catching on,
the perpetuation of the signal
that is in essence where I'm from,
would be, will ever be and was in form.

Crossing the threshold of attendance
into performance-giving life,
no separation, no more distance
between the one that is and does
who might have thought it's all a story,
a dream that pushes back
at what the ideals have inserted 
into this gruesome quest with dirty hands,
into the mere thirst and hunger
that collide with this lone being rough
and with the sleep that tends to ease the ride.

In this unending generation 
of events that will make right
whatever it is we're here to manifest,
to interpret or to realise
ahead of all the orders, polished extensions
we've seen in pictures and in graphs
that would acclaim, provide representation 
for things we barely know how to outline
that we do well, excel at and define.

For self and other, friend and foe
as if our surety was a given
and our readiness could draw
more of the truth
towards the universe we feel is driven 
now gathers us, somehow begets,
in subcutaneous, firm connections stalls
and with it comes a pure reflection, 
a shape, a shadow
of the knowledge somehow old,
somewhere foretold.

What's in a breath?
What's in that overflow of air
that prompts in inspirations 
any and all the movements
of the soul, the body form,
that spurs a revolution 
out of mere respiration
turning the peace of sleep
into the waking knowledge deep
that says we are subject to the staves
on which our living script,
the symphonies unfold
not guided by the hold
we fix, profess to own,
perfunctorily pretend to blow
but by the breath itself,
the spirit moving, deft
showing in us, abiding
in existence beyond casts and bribes,
a breath away from life in life,
dependent on a force beyond our lies?

Are we making sense of the world just to ourselves 
through what we think and say?
Are we explaining this neat world to self 
through what we do and do expect?

The poet uses words aiming to splay th…