This is about a movie.
This is about Her.
The place to begin seems to be cast
amongst the infinite data of the universe.
Near impossible to find amidst the expanse of
everything that’s felt in this small amount of time.
An adventure, starting from dragged feet and downward gazes,
lost amidst thoughts of things that were, things that lead to here.

Right.

Here.

Commentary provided by;
the voice that has that little bit of rasp to it
when it’s trying to contain attention.
But there’s no need to try.
All the attention is there and willing.
Lounging in the back of the mind,
on the shore of one mans understanding.
The precipice of everything and nothing.
Standing, waiting for a door to open.
Attention to give, knowledge to receive.
knowledge is power,
and more Knowledge makes one powerless.
That realization is upon you before you even realize
you know you don’t know anything.

You get anxious.
The good kind and the bad kind.
There are words to be said, tears shed,
voices raised in frustration.
But none of it is enough.
Others have said it, cried it, shouted it better.
Even they can’t do it justice.
Like an ocean, ebb and flo.
Like a storm, perfect and terrifying.
Like a forest, still and vibrant.
A cozy sweater, wrinkled, a little smelly,
Comfortable.

Even nothing is too much to say.
The silence between laughter,
Lifts astronomically,
Then drops catastrophically.
‘Finity’, is the gravity.
A breath between sentences
brings confusion and questions about why it’s even happening.
A book has a cover if not to attract you to it,
then to remind you that it has an end.
Other people understand what is going on.
A channel well travelled by men and lady alike and not at all you.
Community through perceived loneliness, just have to look up.
Hands, freed from pockets and
Get out of bed! Get up! Get up!
Look outside the walls of the skull.
Everyone’s here with you, and you’re there with them,
going to the moon and back a million times with
thoughts about that one thing your mother probably did
or didn’t say 6 years ago or yesterday,
about the shoes you were wearing.

Work,
becomes fun,
becomes work,
becomes longing for what comes after work,
becomes appreciating the moment so much,
that you lose appreciation for it
because you just can’t wait for the next one to begin.
That next time,
where a smile will be shared singing silly song lyrics.
The brief eye contact when saying goodbye
that makes the focal point seem tilt shifted
in an infinite number of megapixels.
Every detail of what’s being fished for
on the beach in the back of the mind
is right in front of you.

And is real.

Unbelievably real.

More than anything you could have ever imagined.
Ridiculous to some.
Acceptable to others.
You can hear the street moving beneath you.
The pen strokes of important documents filed on neatly cut paper.
Dust floating so crisp and vivid like children at a birthday party.
The little things allow for passage through big moments.
Anchors, to keep sanity from floating through the wounds of
vital organs retreating to the earth
through the feet
or out the throat.

She’s leaving.

No.

Running.

It can’t be stopped.
Neither can she.
That’s why you love her.
She needs this.
To be a part of something bigger.
A necessary part of whatever this is…
This..

Life.

Brevity declares beauty on special occasion,
and however brief it may end up truly being,
the time shared is so heart wrenchingly beautiful
you can feel vomit fighting against
the urge to swallow the sadness signifying
that it needs to be over.

For now or forever.

Now you know a little less about the universe.
Now you know about a movie.
Now you know about Her.