Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Like stillness and like silence as the breezes
rest, lone momentarily assured,
and drop infinities of paper flags—
of holy thoughts on heavens’ movement paused—
two tiny bits of flesh exhausted fall
like dusky quiet: soft and sleep and dark.
It used to be when I was scared to pray
If I should die before the break of day—
but now those words with ease and unremarkable
devotion flow and capture all
the variable thoughts fatigue has caused
to dapple now my nightfall. Heavy sags
the memory and sins to which referred
its playback thoughts; good-night by mercy’s ease.

stillness is such a rare commodity.
the traders can't yet posit a value.
if they can't see it, it must not exist.