The Things Beneath Your Feet
beneath your feet, the ground moves,
not like earthquakes, but tiny vibrations.
every step you take resonates
through the lives of others,
strangers you will never meet,
but whose hopes are snarled with yours
in the roots of this impossible planet.
you are both the creator and the created,
the designer and the destruction.
there is a sea beneath your feet
not made of water but of peace.
it stretches to the horizon,
its surface smooth as the desert dune.
beneath it, there are creatures
made by consecrated chants,
their bodies iridescent with light
the kind of light that reveals hidden things.
they swim in circles,
waiting for the moment you will dive in
and set them free.
at the top of the world,
beneath your feet.
is an imposing force,
not ordinary,
not the kind you find in gravity
which chastens you like a child.
its knob is warm to the touch,
and when you turn it,
you realize it has been waiting for you
all along.
beneath your feet, there is a book
and there is nothing.
its pages turn by itself,
the words are as rich as light
but meanings dissolve into questions.
and you are left in confusion,
pondering about your life,
wondering if wrong is right
hoping for things that no longer exist.
beneath your feet are fragmented dreams,
some in your brain and others in your heart.
they are scattered everywhere,
they don’t respect boundaries,
they only respond to your actions.
just keep walking
and the world will shift beneath your feet,
not because it must,
but because it can.
because it wants to.
because you need it to.
0 Comments