What if you don’t
stand for anything?
What if there is no precision?
What if it was all meant
to be polarities?
Infinitely chaotic.
Back and forth,
back and forth.

What if we surrender,
rest our heads on the shoulder
of the beast
breathing down the neck of our lives?

What if
it was just a matter
of pinning down what matters,
the three things you’re blessed with-
the warm couch;
the fish stew your mama prepared for lunch;
as the dawns turned longer, the clarity
which broke through gently
in the morning after darkness.
Perhaps more than three things.

What if this is all you stand for?
What if this is the only precision?
What if
this is all it takes
for things to be
infinitely one, for you to finally
feel alive.