matters

mornings

inside my house

walls and ceilings

i can feel a round rising

some call it sun some call it earth

never not turning

arising

called as seen called as felt

yesterday was

falling

orbit doesn’t have ground to stand on

understand

spinning, arcing, oval-ing

how many layers

in any direction

from within this seemingly single point of perspective

of reference, of reverence

the dot, the line, the dance

in relationship to

of intimacy

seen and unseen

weaving golden threads

moving matter

making matter

making meaning

making matter mean

making meaning matter

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