< Writing

the mere image of words and the Fibonacci sequence

{0,...} womb

om                                                                                woman

            the abyss: place,
            echo where the earth and sky rise,
            a realm where imagination is tied.
            being descends and ascends — is
            sent — into the white, blanc. we find a way,
            aided by our woven cord, a
            filament from the light of images.
            innocent like the unborn. blindly
            our beings take up strings of text,
            following a thread to a picture of
the way: two lanes, an inherited highway, a
            helix along the rippling expansion.

man                                                                               amen

{...1,1,2,3,5,8...} world

            movement: she and he,
            x, x, x, y. x and y. the dual and plural archetype. you and i, we. we u-turn often,
            transmigrate, travel, coordinate, and choreograph, but grasp the ground, the soil under our fingernails.
            each time we gather that we’ve gone too far
            in a direction or think we may have missed... we grasp again
            for the earth, or curl up under the covers, under the influence
            of an opposite gravity as we move up and down
            the same flat stretch of time,
            over and under again. we blank stare at the front and back of white and black (printed pages);
            warp and weft of the textile entrapping; conceptual underpinnings.
            we return to confinement. rebirth defined.
            the body rises from its own imagined grave, in and among,
            merging with both the world and woven pattern.
            but the body sinks again when logic ascends.
            we experience each and each other,
            unbound with inhale and exhale, ah
            we speak our last one last time then
            without uttering a word we see our-
            selves disappear beyond sound until
            light creates images in the dark, and eyes can exist again.

then, a whisper of a thought beyond origin: "the universe began as a zygote, too, alone in a womb just like you."