Riddle

The Riddle

The other half of something-

Does it equal something, in itself,

Some kind of whole, or always half,

Needing that sum, that total?

Or is it that hand clapping

In the forest- was it supposed to be one- maybe

Pushing air towards an incredible void meeting it

The phantom pain they talk about

On the other side…

Are there pieces that sprinkle off, particles of the whole,

And are they always portions now sprung forth

Into the atmosphere, spiraling into

An exploded universe

Seeking their completeness

Somewhere else and

In some other time.

I Wait

I Wait

Quietly, silently, I wait,

In a quiet room, to learn of you,

Who are

Darkly drifting, your blind, deadman’s float.

Quietly, silently,

Suspended, lulled in liquid-

Curled, and, as yet, unnamed,

a knot.

Within my quietly

widening walls, you

also wait,

Your prehistoric parody- fish, reptile, bird,

Adding, multiplying, dividing, subdividing,

quietly silently, repeating, ancient patterns

A familiar formula;

An old math;

But you,
A new equation.