on my humming

i don't mind.
i sit silent,
i observe.

now it is me,
i don't want
to be drawn

not by you
nor my the humming
in my heart

nor by the distant
pain in my skin
nor by

the noise
circling like wasps
in my head.

i lost
to want,
my longing

is finding
the end of time
in me.

i could wake up,
my essence
present in me,

in my skin,
my touch,
and my body,

my soul in kisses,
in making love
on the top of a tree,

in my hands
to heal,
my voice to soothe.

and i can be
the swimmer
saving me,

for a time,
as we all must do,
breathing and breathing

and the blood running
and pulsing
with the tides,

the moon
in mirror halls
and ghost towns

of past and thought.
we cross seas,
storms, delusion,

but we can stop.
and we will.
I see.