If you look closely
at the way it is connected,
you won’t see a connection point.
You’ll see too many to count.
You’ll see how a human life
is the stone thrown into the lake,
and the ripples reaching the shore.
The interval between the surface waves,
changes the path of a butterfly.
The way a person speaks to another
leads that person to a conclusion
the underlying intent
of their very next interaction.
A sensate hurricane
is the human mind,
a honeycomb of thought,
a swarm of energy,
a pulsing branding burn
that says where it is,
yet reaches for what is next-always.
Where are we in this midst of this?
In the traps of the hot pavement,
in the shrill tall structures,
always near something with a motor,
what we keep repeating
where are we, in this?