Dense
One step here and there.
My move and you’re still
but I can’t find you
or the path to where you are.
(pause)
You are not isolated
and I’m on my way
to whatever gate draws the line
of your restricted neighborhood.
(stop)
Behind the walls around
that keep me out of bounds
I invent myself through the open interval
to acceptance among your own.
(pause)
Now I’m here, but where?
The fullness which you fill!
Yet nowhere in sight
from any point of mine.
(stop)
In becoming acquainted,
unknown neighbors pass away
the confines of your connected circle
one by one must narrow in.
(pause)
Although you’re sought, not found,
gradually I can hear your sounds
and unmoving by will, not force
you are the limit of my need to know.
Don’t stop.
—Derek Miller, 10 March 2015
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