*thyme bread*

I am sitting here with you
sipping a cup of coffee alone
how interesting to save energy and space like that
using one body what used to be just mine.

how contemplative peaceful aware and full of wisdom we are  together
as I could be on my own before my fall
a fall –  a period  
equivalent to  intervals of states of innocence
after the fetal  and before the restored one.

communicative is the body in creative balance
walking on a line of  harmony
beyond a metropolitan valley
because it can afford derived fun
so to create surroundings by dance  
so to create matter.

speaking under the dimness of a warm bright yellow kitchen light
its morning with you now alone
I made a thyme bread for us not to eat if you don’t want to but to awaken divination
the suggestion of taste by smell
the act of cooking
to trigger a required natural physical reaction
imagine.

I serve it beside the coffee as dry bread
maybe not for us but for the birds outside
as if it matters: the I –  the you or the birds
one sips – the other beaks
and the rays of universe weave

that’s all about it I guess

this way we broadcast our mute to us- never heard by us – laughter  through a November mist towards a galaxy  where families live and can receive ours’ as a synaesthesized pulse and can learn from – the way to become happy not like us but as a cause of ours’

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