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.