magoski
Closeness
is felt—
a proximity so intimate
it flirts
with physical contact,
as if sound itself
were leaning
against your skin.
What does it mean
to feel?
To be close?
To abandon
one’s consciousness
and inhabit,
if only for a flicker,
the universal All—
the One—
the living
singing
breath
of Gaia
herself?
Hold me
in your gaze,
not as observer
and observed,
but as two
coalescing points
inside a single
resonant
living
song.
Favorite track: herpetophonics: ponderings.