I

as luck would have it
we are life force low
the trail of our deceits
folded back 
to false beginnings
loops of consciousness
pulled tight and dark
lost and twisted
in self-made knots

II

the thing about 
physical art
is getting lost
you fly to a 
new realm
 different dimension
carried 
by color
or movement
or just 
the light
merged to one
with creation
if you are lucky
it is your death