Tallying The Miracles ~ l'assemblage ~ ©MichaelDouglasJones
I am as you are,
we are of the ancients.
We are of the now,
and the forevernow.
These are the books we carry;
we are of the ancients.
We are of the now,
and the forevernow.
These are the books we carry;
this is who we are.
We are the waking; taking our first full breath.
We are the words we whisper, when we turn the page.
Breathing in, we are the blending of all books,
the scribbling pencil points,
the overwhelmed annalists listening for the silence
between crow caws and motorcars.
Breathing out, we are this that is not named.
Breathing in, we are the gathering of grace;
the last scribes in the retinue, tallying the miracles,
illuminating manuscripts of unseen symphonies from
early morning mockingbirds.
Breathing out, we are this that is not named.
Breathing in, we are all that ever was.
Breathing out, we are all that ever will be.
Breathing in, we are.
Breathing out, we.
Breathing in.
Breathing.
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