within the essence of a sigh –
contained within the silence of contemplation –
there is that moment when it seems the world stands still.
nothing really matters.
it’s in the confines of the space before – where matter was abandoned.
out of routine –
ritual to supposed-to-be –
importance met it’s untimely demise.
and now,
afloat upon the waters of indifference,
it matters not the absence of the wind.
when there is no desire to leave the harbor,
it matters not which way the current flows,
nor how often the oars hit even the surface of the water…
standing too close to the edge 