Departure

The distance from the bardo to the sparrow. In these eyes a thousands forests make their song. Fear and death are the sacred altitudes of love. Vistas standing wide before microscopic gods. A physical kiss of perspectivity. Descending there to rise, for each degree of distance, the interval between the clock and the beautiful creatures. All those points of view, simultaneous in your travel; how in seeing they become the insides of my moment. Pulsing. To leap with the ancient purpose. From the branch, the bird, departing.