what is this melting into worlds of shine and color

retinal imprint somehow soothing

the way it soaks in

the mind saturated, left to stitch itself together

with a needle held in shaking hands

why not stay dissolved?

in soil there are worlds

in amber, time frozen

scattered on the lens it all creates itself

from voice and spoken word

solid like a slow river entered from a mile high

wood dry and waiting for the flame

creaking happily beneath the weight of dancers

who any moment now

will forget that they never learned to walk on water

—

—

Photo by Christian Lue on Unsplash