this me

a place remembered
a moment come and gone and here and then
to take away
the other worldly non
to take away
this we this us this i and you and me

color lights corners on fire
they burn down to embers and an echo
the glow leaves a whisper
in bending light pulled tight around an empty
moment who is actually full
every(thing)

an instinct guides you home
to a nonplace a nontime an unknown
an instinct born of home
an instinct born one thousand years ago
sings toward
a moment when everything worth breathing
everything worth my touch and
sound
and stare
calls upon the instinct that guides me home

i cannot remember
precisely where this moment lives
i cannot say this light was born this morning
(one thousand years ago its color might have shifted slightly down or up)
i cannot touch a thing i don't command

i do not command this memory
i do not command you
nor do i command this me.

a place remembered is
where you and every all

whisper.