Letting Go

You understand what I’m saying

after a while. There won’t be another time.

Maybe the slipping happens at the far end of my mind –

a wild year on the same side, turning in the light.

I fit perfectly into the air. 

There are no edges, and often

one thing becomes a small world,

in a natural state of dreams.

They come down running,

and the softness wraps around the practised part

and the delicate art.

All of this travels

with you, and with me.

Keep going.