i am silent

because 

only felt pulses live 

in the dark sensations of

what “knowing” actually is:

a brief, ephemeral glimpse of

a much grander scheme 

that has open ends.  

EMBODIMENT is fresh and full, 

more like a river or a lake with edges that wax and wane

responding to changes in environment.

It’s not a face, nor a definition: not an identity. 

‘Knowing’ is not loud, screaming, underlined. 

Not out-lined in bold, 

dot-pointed, close-toed

tight-lipped, buttoned, scheduled. Clipboard authority. 

But it’s still precise. 

It’s a silent holding of temperature and form,

a collection of discrete matter. You sense its presence,

because you are also

presence. 

(…and that is the only real reason)

How it formed is not important

nor does “Why does it live and die?” 

It is eternal, I am.

‘Embodiment’ pulses, like an electron—

almost not there, but here, full, open, and pregnant with an observed breath. 

I am silent because of this.