magoski
sound does not begin.
It arrives.
Low.to the ground
Grainy.
Radiant w/ decay.
this music—
becomes a compass.
Not pointing north.
but Pointing through the
floating dust
This music speaks in fracture
& shimmer
this sound carries us
where feet cannot remember
the way becomes air
Held by vibration.
cradled in
echoe
rocked
in futures that do not demand permanence,
capture
or command
only passage
only breath
only now
This is a sound that does not begin
This is a sound that arrives