Pointing at Monday

It oscillates: identity, elasticized, not bound as me,

Extends as bodily intimacy.

Audition issues selfsame cognition,

In colour, contour, body, position.

Flowing and fading: each time-touch temptation,

This world’s a smear of spatial sensation.

Mirrors as strange as strangers to meet,

Familiar and foreign, felt and complete.

Patterns spread, subside, and vanish:

The All appears and fades to gone,

Unbound, no longer needs to long.

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