The Chair

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.