chords of ink

me: stuck on that which is not here
(stuck on that which engraved it’s initials on this internal tree)

i, a single insignificant cell
--no different than the others

dwell on occurrences that only
exist within

no memory
no past
with a grasp

change this day
with a thought
of
wonder
like a ballroom waltz
to the chords
bleeding the ink
--of god