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the art of disconnection the art of disconnecting, gracefully, from activitythe art of disconnection by ~khay
as night and eyelids fall with keen awareness of tomorrow
is expertise earned with difficulty and counterintuition
the art of connecting is so widely taught it becomes nature
reaching outwards from self, fingertips grasping fingertips
the syn/ack affirmation of mutual existence, consciousness
this is where intuition leads us, all of us, together
this is the headwater of alphabets, art, radio waves, and wifi
the art of connecting inspires us, comforts us, educates us
all of this is good, really
but the earth's rotation continues unabated and inexorable
human circadian rhythms remai
pieces driving through/into memories of thoughts that I hadpieces by ~khay
months—years ago
as though the thought-waves themselves stayed behind
too attached to location
waiting for my return
or perhaps it was pieces of me that I carelessly left
scattered around the region
how much can there be left of me (I've been so many places)
must I retrace my steps
a nomad compelled to wander
to ensure no part of me withers from neglect?
Sta.sh
