The other night I was sitting at the bar
Talking to a person who I am seeing, but not dating
Because these days, that actually makes a difference
We were talking about the space in between
Where thoughts happen and where they occur
What I mean is, the thought that inspires the thing
And the place where that thing becomes itself
Which is the truth?
Where is the truth?
The truth is in the space between
Which we will never fully grasp
Never quite see or catch
Hazy, but
It is also in the beginning and ending
Truth lives in all three
Birth and death
Life being, of course, the space between
What we can’t see
Where we can’t see
I dreamt I went shopping the other night
I was walking down the aisles of a grocery store
The light was bright, garish
Overwhelming
I couldn’t find what I was looking for
I can never find what I am looking for
I’m the type of person who has difficulty lighting a cigarette
Always standing in the wind, stifling the flame
I strike the flint once, twice, three times before shifting
Positions
Trying again.