December’s Sun

Fluffy, so light, I could fly into the clouds and sing a dance of renewal. 

It is December, and I simply want to be me, but who am I?

In circles I go, against my own will, 'cause prior to the will is my attentive gaze,
so I gaze and then I think, so then I attend and then I will. 

In circles I define myself, self-referencing, machine that strives toward liberty, 
an open-ended wholeness.

In circles I become a Trojan-horse of love, gone and away, away and back,
this is it, it, it is just this which is, just now, it, it is, loving. 

Flight, so might, I can go away and come back, lost and bounced.
 
I am still against this December's gaze, but the sun is so mine, 
the sun is so tender that I know I could fly anytime,
go into the skies and become it, it, being. 

Being, it. 

It...December's sun. 

For the multi-language version hear the audio fusing the English with a Spanish translation, a suggestion to enhance the poem by David Stevens.