Photo courtesy Pexels.
Everyone knows
The chair is an inanimate object,
Or so they say.
But as I look at the chair, it fills the space
With your everywhereness.
Music from a radio somewhere in the distant past
Dances through the air
As shadows move, changing shape
Softly to the rhythm.
The moments of the clock
Are suspended
Waiting patiently for the rhythm
Of my heart.
The chair softly pulses
Its electricity bringing everything into balance
In a world where everything
Is part of everything else.
It’s funny
Everyone knows
A chair
Is an inanimate object.
Or so they say.
All in a Day's Breath 