Thirty Minutes

I come to you for questions; and I come to you for answers.

We sit in analysis, counting diamonds, and purging spirits.

So many features; and such distrust; focused, and near

illusion. How have we awakened; but never again; and ever

again. “I just need to see.”

Something peaks; and something breathes: a set of characteristics,

revealed through one voice. We see and live, becoming the

studied. What mechanism!

I never cried to you, awake-asleep, full of trepidation, as cautious

as road lizards. But practice and wand stirred a fever, where

internal broke a surface. I now perish-reborn: a self dying: a

self living. We watch; ever alive, and ever dead, greatly

detached.

Through osmosis and agitation, a metamorphosis is underway.

A world has challenged a world, where reality is contorted,

surfing through psyches, in preparation of thirty minutes.