EVERYTHING THAT EXISTS...

He sat on the floor...knees high, feet firmly planted. One hand lay gently but firmly on his knee, the other sat motionless on the side of his face. He hardly seemed to notice when his his finger began to tap a song, an anthem, a hymn onto his cheek. He mumbled the list of generations - dreams of knowing. The soft thumps of his heart reverberated in the taps of his finger tip, the flutter at his wrist and neck, his steady breath. There are calm oceans enveloped within a pinprick moment, there are mountain chains encased within a glance, deserts and skies enfold in the tap of a finger - these are the wonders of the small gesture, the tiny moment, the forgotten thought. there may be choirs, but there is also the single hum. Like a needle that pierces an acute moment of skin, the hum of a single tongue creates the placement of the cosmos. So he sits on the floor, knees high, The moment is lax, the moment is infinite - no past, no future...the moment. Tides shift, engines reverberate, walls crumble, skies stagnate. Everything around him moves in its own way, while he stays in the moment...sat on the floor...knees high...tapping his face with a finger.