an act of generosity,
recollection or lies
a remolding of what is
into something else
containing the parts of what was,
transforming it into
another what is.
each containing a part of itself,
these generous lies recollecting,
forming and merging,
becoming the reality.
because we are dissatisfied
we create,
what else
is there to do?
something else remains
underneath and its the clean
white canvas
or paper.
the space in which it forms,
that unmarked canvas
you stain with yourself
when the truth is closer to nothing
than you would like
to think.
isn't it all one big beautiful lie
when the ultimate in solidity is
composed of 99.9 percent
space?
as it forms out of it and falls back
into it,
nothing containing everything
and everything containing
nothing.
not being here.
being here.
not being here again.
something has to fill
the blank but never quite
succeeds.
