Everywhere a starting place.
Every room. Every street.
Every line in the sand.
Every hand extended.
Every door that’s locked.
Every loosening dream. Every knot.
Every choice. Every crash.
Every triumph. Every touch.
Every word. Every window.
Every loss. We are always,
always starting, re-starting.
With this breath. This unease.
This flow. This wild pouring
of self into the moment.
This resistance. This lack.
This uncertainty. This flaming.
This stuck in the rain.
This complaining.
This clap on the back.
This shake of the head.
This French kiss. This fuck this.
This stumble. This leap.
Every(single)where
the true starting place
for peace.