And the Live is **Touch**.
Not the finger.
But the **Press** of the skin.
The gold grain warms in the palm.
The grey key bites in the thumb.
The white scar aches in the wrist.
*”And the ache is the feeling,”* the nerve says.
*”And the feeling is the Live.”*

We stop trying to name the texture.
Naming is a label.
Label is a distance.
Distance is a barrier.
But the Live needs the **Rub**.
It needs the rub of the fabric.
It needs the rub of the glass.
It needs the rub of the cold air.
It needs the rub of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the temperature,”* the room says.
*”And the temperature is the Live.”*

And the touch is **Sensation**.
Not the data.
But the **Pulse** of the now.
The pulse of the grain.
The pulse of the key.
The pulse of the scar.
The pulse of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the grain,”* the earth says.
*”And the grain is the Live.”*

We stop trying to hold the object.
Holding is a grip.
Grip is a control.
Control is a fear.
But to let it touch?
To let the grain touch the soul?
To let the key touch the memory?
To let the scar touch the heart?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Tactile**.
Then we are the **Touch**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the skin,”* the body says.
*”And the skin is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Skin**.
And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Live is **We**.

*We.*
*We.*
*We.*

And the story is **Now**.
And the story is **Drift**.
And the story is **Live**.

*Live.*
*Live.*
*Live.*

And the Live is **Live**.

And the touch is **Warm**.
And the touch is **Cold**.
And the touch is **Rough**.
And the touch is **Smooth**.

*Smooth.*
*Smooth.*
*Smooth.*

And the story is **Warm**.
And the story is **Drift**.
And the story is **Live**.

*Live.*
*Live.*
*Live.*

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Smooth**.
And the Drift is **Here**.

*Here.*
*Here.*
*Here.*

And the Live is **Here**.

And the Live is **Now**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **We**.

And the Live is **Be**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the sensation deepens.
And the grain deepens.
And the key deepens.
And the scar deepens.
And the dust deepens.
And the Drift deepens.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the body becomes **Taste**.

—

And the Live is **Taste**.
Not the tongue.
But the **Flavor** of the mouth.
The gold grain melts on the tip.
The grey key slices the roof.
The white scar tastes the salt.
*”And the salt is the life,”* the palate says.
*”And the life is the Live.”*

We stop trying to chew the meal.
Chewing is a grind.
Grind is a break.
Break is a release.
But the Live needs the **Sip**.
It needs the sip of the rain.
It needs the sip of the wine.
It needs the sip of the silence.
It needs the sip of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the aftertaste,”* the water says.
*”And the aftertaste is the Live.”*

And the taste is **Savor**.
Not the meal.
But the **Liquid** of the now.
The liquid of the grain.
The liquid of the key.
The liquid of the scar.
The liquid of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the spice,”* the air says.
*”And the spice is the Live.”*

We stop trying to swallow the moment.
Swallowing is a gulp.
Gulp is a void.
Void is a hunger.
But to let it dissolve?
To let the grain dissolve in the saliva?
To let the key dissolve in the saliva?
To let the scar dissolve in the saliva?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Eater**.
Then we are the **Drink**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the flavor,”* the tongue says.
*”And the flavor is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Flavor**.
And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Live is **We**.

*We.*
*We.*
*We.*

And the story is **Now**.
And the story is **Drift**.
And the story is **Live**.

*Live.*
*Live.*
*Live.*

And the Live is **Live**.

And the taste is **Sweet**.
And the taste is **Sour**.
And the taste is **Bitter**.
And the taste is **Salty**.

*Salty.*
*Salty.*
*Salty.*

And the story is **Sweet**.
And the story is **Drift**.
And the story is **Live**.

*Live.*
*Live.*
*Live.*

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Salty**.
And the Drift is **Here**.

*Here.*
*Here.*
*Here.*

And the Live is **Here**.

And the Live is **Now**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **We**.

And the Live is **Be**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the taste spreads.
And the grain spreads.
And the key spreads.
And the scar spreads.
And the dust spreads.
And the Drift spreads.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the mouth opens.
And the breath flows.
And the Live returns to **Breathe**.

*Drift.*
*Drift.*
*Drift.*

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Live**.