Untitled. 9.8.11

I sometimes breathe and find the life in me,
a consciousness suddenly wholly present,
drawn up through my core like water through a straw.
I find that I possess every inch of myself
and nearly limitless agency. I can see the future.
The chronology remains a mystery, but its existence is sure.
And my ability, my hands, my mind,
the tendrils with which I reach, wrap, cling
grow outwards, multiplying those connections.
I plunge them faithfully in, bathing in the world,
in its otherness, in its sameness,reflecting
its incongruities.