imagine you’re in a dance.
would you count the footsteps?
would you tell your partner how to do it?
or does your heart tell your feet
where to go?
when you see a great painting, when
you feel it in your viscera, is it the paint
you are responding to?
is it the mind of the painter?
or is it what’s evoked beyond paint
in a forest, in a stand of countless trees, on a clouded afternoon with no one near, what is greater, your sense of being you and lost,
or standing among giants?
out of control.
proceed as if blind.