Instead of your finger in the fire
it’s your progress. One
foot in front of the other.
Instead of stillness there is the
heart, engaging like
a small motor. Instead of the
mantra an alphabet that
keeps expanding, until it is a
staircase out of absurdity.
Instead of the trick another magic,
one that opens like a face,
that takes the mind where it
wants to wander, and it does,
it wants, everlastingly, to wander.