maybe it's the vibes that resonate from the
symbolism in the speech that is unspoken
that often goes unheard and collapses on deaf ears.
maybe it's the frequency between the beat
and the rhyme and the time 3 hit 9 on the clock
when the sun fell down to invite in the dark.
maybe it's the tenderness of the connection
when the raindrops tap dance along the pavement
or when the mosquito pierces the skin to suck the blood out of our flesh.
maybe it's the rotation of how and what and when
and why and where and who knows and who knew
and you know because i knew around the day we see.
maybe it's the way it is . and the way it should be.
with no questions, no deliberation, no analysis, no human being.
just nature existing and night falling softly on the wooden floor.
