The blank position intermingles
with the crowded posture
each taking a short shot
at becoming lighter than light.
Another swap: one swift sentence
in exchange for a few snaked sounds,
out of the clogged pipe
back to the time before dichotomy.
The mind smokes up once more
reflecting the wildfire burning
a few feet beneath the visible,
pining needles.
Dreams become crows become dramas,
rising in action before they threaten to
and then in fact end;
only to lift off again, expectably.
That's the Epicurean position for assertions:
assume that each assumption will resume on a path of some kind,
as long as your path definition
widens enough to handle any sky.
Meditations, yes.
Traditions, sure.
A minty mind can overcome
a gut ranched body.
Roman Ryan 