Does it bother you, the grinding?
Teeth marks left on bones.
The tideline’s broken shells.
The ground, subducting.
We could call it entropy, a shame, a disaster.We could focus on fault lines and fear — there’s plenty to go around.
instead of choosing these fragile, hesitant masks,
we see that we are
born of bedrock
and tide pools,
shaped by lichen
we are actually
the quaking Earth, itself —
what if then we
never fully surfaced
to think of fault lines and Richter scales, but
became a flow, diving down,
emerging at the rift, renewed,
never really shaken to pieces,
but always just one spinning, concentric,
instead of the
broken and imperfect shells,
or even the pulsing, charging sea, we are the play of minerals between the tides —
the dance of elements, joining and rejoining, never separate, never nothing, never something for long.
instead of the graceful curve of caribou antler,
it’s gleaming lines marred by toothmarks,
we aren’t the rodent’s body, craving calcium, but its hunger —
a pure desire
which, perfectly met,
draws you forward, always
always moving within
What if you believed
we are all of these and more, even
none of these —
It is time to play.
Now you see
the pieces are always here. Reassemble.
Take this mask of subduction, and release the sublime.
In this moment, always —
in the shattering, the rebuilding, and the longing — we are the grinders
and the grinding
and the ground.