Contour maps stretch across my hands and curl around my knuckles
A texture defines my flesh as worn and weathered
Prayers clasped intertwined by the cascading dawn my breath breathes into you
You the air that takes and feeds this aspen rattling like a snake above me
Shaking out the wild days of summer
heat cooking unripe leaves green dying into tie-dying amber, orange, and burnt ember hues
I have learned from watching the mountain jay to call for you relentlessly
Frenetically my heart rates the day accordingly when I fear that you have not heard
I am that racketeering parade cawing for more
Far more from you
that flaring galactic appeal you who stands in the enigmatic corners of each miscalculation of eternity a distance I cannot see
You measure me with your genetic codes your divine Leggos
You who has mass appeal but no mass can appeal to what you are
You who is the glue or the field
I drop my head to say,
"You are listening." But, no ears receive the sounds
The sounds have ears; they are listening to their own body
They inhabit space because a habit of space is to find shape
empties itself of space to make place for your form
See, room is made for every creature or act of creation
I look at the contours of my hand curling around a container of time
One day that container will break and pour into you.