aporias

This is an hypothesis to be eventually watered and embraced and overcome.
Love is a vertigo and a flight.
From the bottom of a pathless forest, much sun, much detail, like the minute curves of being. From the angle of after-tomorrow, today can be a crucial route or a broken bridge. Who knows? The arrow and the bow and the arms and the wind and the strength of mine? And the continuous tension of it all, perfectly still, now?