I Am The Closed Eyes

Short poem about letting go and living in the moment.

I am the closed eyes of the waxwing in free-fall. Weightless, while the world spins below like a record on a turntable, the needle caught in the final groove. Swansong already sung but the world r(evolve)s on the tip of the ocean’s tongue, on the crest of every wave, bowing to the moon, waning through the arching veins of the universe. In this moment…I am.

Wings at my side the wind parts to my wanting.

The world rises to meet me.

The mountain’s peaks purse their lips but I shan’t taste of their kiss, no snow-capped tryst where the stone meets the sky, for today is not the day that I die.