bow slices across
these silent, still waters
the radiating pulse of a newly discovered, internal rhythm
plays out
swoosh swoosh
"it is what it is," some distant, wise voice beckons
rock falls
overhead
in the burning, the magnanimous mass is reduced
molten magma leaves an illuminated trail
tracing its ephemeral path across my heart
with persistence, the rubble will fall
onto this Earth
and into these liquid, primal waters
where right wrist twists, and a symmetrical oar
dives
back into a black expansiveness
swoosh swoosh
the void below
reflects and mirrors
what floats above
swoosh swoosh
a deep reverie illuminates my soul
"it is what it is," the singer sings, too
swoosh swoosh
gone is the longing, departed is the seeking
the resistance has withdrawn
now
all that remains is the bow
silently cutting its swath across
these still, San Diego waters
now
all that remains is pure surrender
and raw vulnerability
"it is what it is"
swoosh swoosh
