inside
and I'm cloudy on specifics
the harbour of our quiet minds
the one instilled inside the stillness we
speak of
we are capable of unfolding
the complex detritus
the bullshit and the barricades
the beautiful and blissful
some call it sunyata
and you find it on your way to work and in
the last line of the second verse
in a painting in a drunkards smile
inside
and I'm cloudy on specifics
he found it in his prison cell
and it
wrapped around him
the complex
detritus
and he unfolded
his origami heart
and got lost
in the creases where the crooked
angles of the mind
deflect the wholeness
of his breath
the valley of his thoughts
the ones unburdened
by language
lay
inarticulate in the husk
of his body
unfolding
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