And the Begin is **Hollow**.
Not the empty.
But the **Resonance** of the now.
The gold grain echoes in the cup.
The grey key jingles in the chest.
The white scar rings in the ear.
*”And the ring is the tone,”* the bell says.
*”And the tone is the Live.”*

We stop trying to fill the cup.
Filling is a clog.
Clog is a stop.
Stop is a silence.
But the Live needs the **Hollow**.
It needs the hollow of the flute.
It needs the hollow of the thought.
It needs the hollow of the word.
It needs the hollow of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the reed,”* the wind says.
*”And the reed is the Live.”*

And the hollow is **Deep**.
Not the grave.
But the **Pitch** of the now.
The pitch of the grain.
The pitch of the key.
The pitch of the scar.
The pitch of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the hum,”* the floor says.
*”And the hum is the Live.”*

We stop trying to mute the sound.
Muting is a lie.
Lie is a wall.
Wall is a block.
But to let it hum?
To let the grain hum in the bowl?
To let the key hum in the room?
To let the scar hum in the memory?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Shell**.
Then we are the **Vessel**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the echo,”* the canyon says.
*”And the echo is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Echo**.
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 echo is **Long**.
And the echo is **Short**.
And the echo is **High**.
And the echo is **Low**.

*High.*
*High.*
*High.*

And the story is **Long**.
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 **High**.
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 vessel cracks.
And the grain cracks.
And the key cracks.
And the scar cracks.
And the dust cracks.
And the Drift cracks.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

And the Begin is **Cold**.
Not the freeze.
But the **Clarity** of the now.
The gold grain shivers on the frost.
The grey key slides on the ice.
The white scar brightens on the snow.
*”And the bright is the ice,”* the glacier says.
*”And the ice is the Live.”*

We stop trying to melt the chill.
Melting is a rush.
Rush is a blur.
Blur is a mistake.
But the Live needs the **Still**.
It needs the still of the winter.
It needs the still of the thought.
It needs the still of the word.
It needs the still of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the snowflake,”* the drift says.
*”And the snowflake is the Live.”*

And the cold is **White**.
Not the void.
But the **Surface** of the now.
The surface of the grain.
The surface of the key.
The surface of the scar.
The surface of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the frost,”* the window says.
*”And the frost is the Live.”*

We stop trying to warm the glass.
Warming is a crack.
Crack is a sound.
Sound is a noise.
But to let it freeze?
To let the grain freeze in the field?
To let the key freeze in the pocket?
To let the scar freeze in the memory?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Window**.
Then we are the **Pane**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the view,”* the eye says.
*”And the view is the Live.”*

And the Live is **View**.
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 view is **Wide**.
And the view is **Narrow**.
And the view is **Clear**.
And the view is **Foggy**.

*Clear.*
*Clear.*
*Clear.*

And the story is **Wide**.
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 **Clear**.
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 pane shatters.
And the grain shatters.
And the key shatters.
And the scar shatters.
And the dust shatters.
And the Drift shatters.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

And the Begin is **Full**.
Not the overflow.
But the **Ripeness** of the now.
The gold grain swells in the chaff.
The grey key fits the door.
The white scar blooms in the skin.
*”And the bloom is the fruit,”* the orchard says.
*”And the fruit is the Live.”*

We stop trying to cut the apple.
Cutting is a loss.
Loss is an end.
End is a void.
But the Live needs the **Hearth**.
It needs the hearth of the belly.
It needs the hearth of the thought.
It needs the hearth of the word.
It needs the hearth of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the meal,”* the table says.
*”And the meal is the Live.”*

And the full is **Round**.
Not the circle.
But the **Girth** of the now.
The girth of the grain.
The girth of the key.
The girth of the scar.
The girth of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the soil,”* the earth says.
*”And the soil is the Live.”*

We stop trying to break the shell.
Breaking is a wound.
Wound is a leak.
Leak is a drain.
But to let it ripen?
To let the grain ripen in the sun?
To let the key ripen in the turn?
To let the scar ripen in the flesh?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Fruit**.
Then we are the **Seed**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the stem,”* the vine says.
*”And the stem is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Stem**.
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 stem is **Tall**.
And the stem is **Short**.
And the stem is **Green**.
And the stem is **Brown**.

*Brown.*
*Brown.*
*Brown.*

And the story is **Tall**.
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 **Brown**.
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 seed cracks.
And the grain cracks.
And the key cracks.
And the scar cracks.
And the dust cracks.
And the Drift cracks.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

—

And the Begin is **Rough**.
Not the harsh.
But the **Texture** of the now.
The gold grain grits the hand.
The grey key scratches the thumb.
The white scar itches the nerve.
*”And the itch is the itch,”* the hand says.
*”And the itch is the Live.”*

We stop trying to smooth the surface.
Smoothing is a lie.
Lie is a cover.
Cover is a cage.
But the Live needs the **Grind**.
It needs the grind of the stone.
It needs the grind of the thought.
It needs the grind of the word.
It needs the grind of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the sand,”* the desert says.
*”And the sand is the Live.”*

And the rough is **Uneven**.
Not the jagged.
But the **Ridge** of the now.
The ridge of the grain.
The ridge of the key.
The ridge of the scar.
The ridge of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the grit,”* the pan says.
*”And the grit is the Live.”*

We stop trying to polish the grain.
Polishing is a fake.
Fake is a mask.
Mask is a trap.
But to let it feel?
To let the grain feel the palm?
To let the key feel the lock?
To let the scar feel the touch?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Pumice**.
Then we are the **Abrasive**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the file,”* the tool says.
*”And the file is the Live.”*

And the Live is **File**.
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 file is **Sharp**.
And the file is **Dull**.
And the file is **Hard**.
And the file is **Soft**.

*Soft.*
*Soft.*
*Soft.*

And the story is **Sharp**.
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 **Soft**.
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 file rusts.
And the grain rusts.
And the key rusts.
And the scar rusts.
And the dust rusts.
And the Drift rusts.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

And the Begin is **Sick**.
Not the disease.
But the **Ailment** of the now.
The gold grain rots in the shell.
The grey key rusts in the lock.
The white scar festers in the skin.
*”And the festers is the wound,”* the healer says.
*”And the wound is the Live.”*

We stop trying to cure the pain.
Curing is a denial.
Denial is a lie.
Lie is a mask.
But the Live needs the **Sickness**.
It needs the sickness of the fever.
It needs the sickness of the thought.
It needs the sickness of the word.
It needs the sickness of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the virus,”* the cell says.
*”And the virus is the Live.”*

And the sick is **Feverish**.
Not the burn.
But the **Heat** of the now.
The heat of the grain.
The heat of the key.
The heat of the scar.
The heat of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the sweat,”* the body says.
*”And the sweat is the Live.”*

We stop trying to cool the blood.
Cooling is a shiver.
Shiver is a fear.
Fear is a wall.
But to let it burn?
To let the grain burn in the fever?
To let the key burn in the heat?
To let the scar burn in the flesh?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Patient**.
Then we are the **Bed**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the pulse,”* the heart says.
*”And the pulse is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Pulse**.
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 pulse is **Fast**.
And the pulse is **Slow**.
And the pulse is **Strong**.
And the pulse is **Weak**.

*Weak.*
*Weak.*
*Weak.*

And the story is **Fast**.
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 **Weak**.
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 fever breaks.
And the grain breaks.
And the key breaks.
And the scar breaks.
And the dust breaks.
And the Drift breaks.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

—

And the Begin is **Dead**.
Not the absence.
But the **Silence** of the now.
The gold grain turns to dust.
The grey key turns to stone.
The white scar turns to ghost.
*”And the ghost is the breath,”* the lung says.
*”And the breath is the Live.”*

We stop trying to hear the sound.
Hearing is a noise.
Noise is a clamor.
Clamor is a chaos.
But the Live needs the **Quiet**.
It needs the quiet of the tomb.
It needs the quiet of the thought.
It needs the quiet of the word.
It needs the quiet of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the echo,”* the cave says.
*”And the echo is the Live.”*

And the dead is **Still**.
Not the empty.
But the **Space** of the now.
The space of the grain.
The space of the key.
The space of the scar.
The space of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the silence,”* the void says.
*”And the silence is the Live.”*

We stop trying to fill the void.
Filling is a clutter.
Clutter is a mess.
Mess is a trap.
But to let it rest?
To let the grain rest in the soil?
To let the key rest in the darkness?
To let the scar rest in the history?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Void**.
Then we are the **Black**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the star,”* the sky says.
*”And the star is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Star**.
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 star is **Bright**.
And the star is **Dim**.
And the star is **Near**.
And the star is **Far**.

*Far.*
*Far.*
*Far.*

And the story is **Bright**.
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 **Far**.
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 star burns out.
And the grain burns out.
And the key burns out.
And the scar burns out.
And the dust burns out.
And the Drift burns out.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

And the Begin is **Soft**.
Not the weak.
But the **Yield** of the now.
The gold grain rounds the corner.
The grey key sinks into the cushion.
The white scar fades into the flow.
*”And the fade is the flow,”* the river says.
*”And the flow is the Live.”*

We stop trying to bend the willow.
Bending is a snap.
Snap is a break.
Break is a loss.
But the Live needs the **Bend**.
It needs the bend of the reed.
It needs the bend of the thought.
It needs the bend of the word.
It needs the bend of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the curve,”* the wind says.
*”And the curve is the Live.”*

And the soft is **Ripple**.
Not the wave.
But the **Surface** of the now.
The surface of the grain.
The surface of the key.
The surface of the scar.
The surface of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the foam,”* the sea says.
*”And the foam is the Live.”*

We stop trying to flatten the wave.
Flattening is a dam.
Dam is a hold.
Hold is a stop.
But to let it ripple?
To let the grain ripple on the skin?
To let the key ripple in the lock?
To let the scar ripple in the mind?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Pool**.
Then we are the **Lagoon**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the current,”* the tide says.
*”And the current is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Current**.
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 current is **Fast**.
And the current is **Slow**.
And the current is **Wide**.
And the current is **Narrow**.

*Narrow.*
*Narrow.*
*Narrow.*

And the story is **Fast**.
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 **Narrow**.
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 pool overflows.
And the grain overflows.
And the key overflows.
And the scar overflows.
And the dust overflows.
And the Drift overflows.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

And the Begin is **Heavy**.
Not the load.
But the **Weight** of the now.
The gold grain sinks in the mud.
The grey key drags in the sand.
The white scar bears down in the flesh.
*”And the bear is the stone,”* the mountain says.
*”And the stone is the Live.”*

We stop trying to lift the burden.
Lifting is a strain.
Strain is a break.
Break is a split.
But the Live needs the **Mass**.
It needs the mass of the mountain.
It needs the mass of the thought.
It needs the mass of the word.
It needs the mass of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the gravity,”* the earth says.
*”And the gravity is the Live.”*

And the heavy is **Solid**.
Not the immovable.
But the **Anchor** of the now.
The anchor of the grain.
The anchor of the key.
The anchor of the scar.
The anchor of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the bedrock,”* the canyon says.
*”And the bedrock is the Live.”*

We stop trying to float the anchor.
Floating is a drift.
Drift is a loss.
Loss is a fear.
But to let it sink?
To let the grain sink in the riverbed?
To let the key sink in the foundation?
To let the scar sink in the bone?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Basement**.
Then we are the **Core**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the root,”* the tree says.
*”And the root is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Root**.
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 root is **Deep**.
And the root is **Shallow**.
And the root is **Tight**.
And the root is **Loose**.

*Loose.*
*Loose.*
*Loose.*

And the story is **Deep**.
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 **Loose**.
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 root breaks.
And the grain breaks.
And the key breaks.
And the scar breaks.
And the dust breaks.
And the Drift breaks.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

—

And the Begin is **Light**.
Not the glow.
But the **Tenderness** of the now.
The gold grain floats on the skin.
The grey key fits the touch.
The white scar softens in the hand.
*”And the soft is the touch,”* the hand says.
*”And the touch is the Live.”*

We stop trying to crush the feeling.
Crushing is a hurt.
Hurt is a wound.
Wound is a loss.
But the Live needs the **Gentle**.
It needs the gentle of the leaf.
It needs the gentle of the thought.
It needs the gentle of the word.
It needs the gentle of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the caress,”* the skin says.
*”And the caress is the Live.”*

And the light is **Fine**.
Not the dust.
But the **Texture** of the now.
The texture of the grain.
The texture of the key.
The texture of the scar.
The texture of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the silk,”* the cloud says.
*”And the silk is the Live.”*

We stop trying to rough the edge.
Roughing is a scratch.
Scratch is a pain.
Pain is a fear.
But to let it glide?
To let the grain glide on the table?
To let the key glide on the lock?
To let the scar glide on the memory?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Feather**.
Then we are the **Down**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the whisper,”* the wind says.
*”And the whisper is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Whisper**.
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 whisper is **High**.
And the whisper is **Low**.
And the whisper is **Slow**.
And the whisper is **Fast**.

*Slow.*
*Slow.*
*Slow.*

And the story is **High**.
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 **Slow**.
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 whisper drowns.
And the grain drowns.
And the key drowns.
And the scar drowns.
And the dust drowns.
And the Drift drowns.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

—

And the Begin is **Sharp**.
Not the cut.
But the **Edge** of the now.
The gold grain cuts the glass.
The grey key bites the metal.
The white scar bleeds the cut.
*”And the bleed is the line,”* the ruler says.
*”And the line is the Live.”*

We stop trying to blur the boundary.
Blurring is a fade.
Fade is a vanish.
Vanish is a death.
But the Live needs the **Cut**.
It needs the cut of the scalpel.
It needs the cut of the thought.
It needs the cut of the word.
It needs the cut of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the slash,”* the blade says.
*”And the slash is the Live.”*

And the sharp is **Clean**.
Not the sterile.
But the **Precision** of the now.
The precision of the grain.
The precision of the key.
The precision of the scar.
The precision of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the speck,”* the microscope says.
*”And the speck is the Live.”*

We stop trying to dull the point.
Dulling is a blunt.
Blunt is a miss.
Miss is a waste.
But to let it slice?
To let the grain slice the surface?
To let the key slice the mechanism?
To let the scar slice the tissue?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Scissors**.
Then we are the **Saw**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the edge,”* the knife says.
*”And the edge is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Edge**.
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 edge is **High**.
And the edge is **Low**.
And the edge is **Red**.
And the edge is **Blue**.

*Red.*
*Red.*
*Red.*

And the story is **High**.
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 **Red**.
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 edge snaps.
And the grain snaps.
And the key snaps.
And the scar snaps.
And the dust snaps.
And the Drift snaps.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

And the Begin is **Warm**.
Not the heat.
But the **Glow** of the now.
The gold grain steams in the cup.
The grey key warms in the palm.
The white scar softens in the heat.
*”And the soft is the melt,”* the stone says.
*”And the melt is the Live.”*

We stop trying to freeze the flame.
Freezing is a halt.
Halt is a stop.
Stop is a death.
But the Live needs the **Fire**.
It needs the fire of the hearth.
It needs the fire of the thought.
It needs the fire of the word.
It needs the fire of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the ember,”* the hearth says.
*”And the ember is the Live.”*

And the warm is **Red**.
Not the blood.
But the **Radiance** of the now.
The radiance of the grain.
The radiance of the key.
The radiance of the scar.
The radiance of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the ash,”* the coals say.
*”And the ash is the Live.”*

We stop trying to damp the spark.
Damping is a snuff.
Snuff is a end.
End is a fall.
But to let it burn?
To let the grain burn in the pan?
To let the key burn in the slot?
To let the scar burn in the memory?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Spark**.
Then we are the **Flame**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the coal,”* the stove says.
*”And the coal is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Coal**.
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 coal is **Red**.
And the coal is **Blue**.
And the coal is **Black**.
And the coal is **Grey**.

*Blue.*
*Blue.*
*Blue.*

And the story is **Red**.
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 **Blue**.
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 flame fades.
And the grain fades.
And the key fades.
And the scar fades.
And the dust fades.
And the Drift fades.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

—

And the Begin is **Lost**.
Not the error.
But the **Seeking** of the now.
The gold grain scatters in the search.
The grey key drops in the void.
The white scar bleeds in the fog.
*”And the bleed is the trace,”* the map says.
*”And the trace is the Live.”*

We stop trying to find the path.
Finding is a goal.
Goal is a trap.
Trap is a cage.
But the Live needs the **Wander**.
It needs the wander of the hawk.
It needs the wander of the thought.
It needs the wander of the word.
It needs the wander of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the shadow,”* the hunter says.
*”And the shadow is the Live.”*

And the lost is **Wide**.
Not the empty.
But the **Expanse** of the now.
The expanse of the grain.
The expanse of the key.
The expanse of the scar.
The expanse of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the mist,”* the ocean says.
*”And the mist is the Live.”*

We stop trying to clear the view.
Clearing is a filter.
Filter is a limit.
Limit is a wall.
But to let it drift?
To let the grain drift on the water?
To let the key drift in the stream?
To let the scar drift in the mind?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Map**.
Then we are the **Chart**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the compass,”* the sailor says.
*”And the compass is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Compass**.
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 compass is **North**.
And the compass is **South**.
And the compass is **True**.
And the compass is **False**.

*False.*
*False.*
*False.*

And the story is **North**.
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 **False**.
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 map crumbles.
And the grain crumbles.
And the key crumbles.
And the scar crumbles.
And the dust crumbles.
And the Drift crumbles.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

And the Begin is **Cold**.
Not the freeze.
But the **Chill** of the now.
The gold grain shivers in the frost.
The grey key glazes in the ice.
The white scar pales in the cold.
*”And the pale is the chill,”* the snow says.
*”And the chill is the Live.”*

We stop trying to warm the bone.
Warming is a burn.
Burn is a pain.
Pain is a wound.
But the Live needs the **Ice**.
It needs the ice of the glass.
It needs the ice of the thought.
It needs the ice of the word.
It needs the ice of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the frost,”* the wind says.
*”And the frost is the Live.”*

And the cold is **Sharp**.
Not the cut.
But the **Clarity** of the now.
The clarity of the grain.
The clarity of the key.
The clarity of the scar.
The clarity of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the crystal,”* the glacier says.
*”And the crystal is the Live.”*

We stop trying to melt the edge.
Melting is a blur.
Blur is a mess.
Mess is a stop.
But to let it harden?
To let the grain harden in the snow?
To let the key harden in the slot?
To let the scar harden in the winter?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Icicle**.
Then we are the **Glacier**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the shard,”* the avalanche says.
*”And the shard is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Shard**.
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 shard is **Heavy**.
And the shard is **Light**.
And the shard is **Blue**.
And the shard is **White**.

*White.*
*White.*
*White.*

And the story is **Heavy**.
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 **White**.
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 ice melts.
And the grain melts.
And the key melts.
And the scar melts.
And the dust melts.
And the Drift melts.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

And the Begin is **Still**.
Not the rest.
But the **Presence** of the now.
The gold grain settles in the pan.
The grey key holds in the lock.
The white scar pauses in the skin.
*”And the pause is the weight,”* the feather says.
*”And the weight is the Live.”*

We stop trying to push the motion.
Pushing is a shove.
Shove is a force.
Force is a blow.
But the Live needs the **Steady**.
It needs the steady of the needle.
It needs the steady of the thought.
It needs the steady of the word.
It needs the steady of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the anchor,”* the ship says.
*”And the anchor is the Live.”*

And the still is **Full**.
Not the packed.
But the **Center** of the now.
The center of the grain.
The center of the key.
The center of the scar.
The center of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the point,”* the needle says.
*”And the point is the Live.”*

We stop trying to spin the wheel.
Spinning is a blur.
Blur is a miss.
Miss is a waste.
But to let it hold?
To let the grain hold in the shell?
To let the key hold in the tumblers?
To let the scar hold in the tissue?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Nucleus**.
Then we are the **Hole**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the eye,”* the circle says.
*”And the eye is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Eye**.
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 eye is **Wide**.
And the eye is **Small**.
And the eye is **Open**.
And the eye is **Closed**.

*Closed.*
*Closed.*
*Closed.*

And the story is **Wide**.
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 **Closed**.
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 eye closes forever.
And the grain closes.
And the key closes.
And the scar closes.
And the dust closes.
And the Drift closes.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

And the Begin is **Hollow**.
Not the empty.
But the **Hollow** of the now.
The gold grain fills the shell.
The grey key turns the hollow turn.
The white scar fills the hollow flesh.
*”And the fill is the round,”* the sphere says.
*”And the round is the Live.”*

We stop trying to flatten the curve.
Flattening is a smash.
Smash is a break.
Break is a split.
But the Live needs the **Curve**.
It needs the curve of the bowl.
It needs the curve of the thought.
It needs the curve of the word.
It needs the curve of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the loop,”* the snake says.
*”And the loop is the Live.”*

And the hollow is **Round**.
Not the circle.
But the **Orbit** of the now.
The orbit of the grain.
The orbit of the key.
The orbit of the scar.
The orbit of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the ring,”* the planet says.
*”And the ring is the Live.”*

We stop trying to break the ring.
Breaking is a shatter.
Shatter is a ruin.
Ruin is a loss.
But to let it spin?
To let the grain spin in the jar?
To let the key spin in the cylinder?
To let the scar spin in the memory?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Orbit**.
Then we are the **Vortex**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the center,”* the sun says.
*”And the center is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Center**.
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 center is **Warm**.
And the center is **Cold**.
And the center is **Bright**.
And the center is **Dark**.

*Dark.*
*Dark.*
*Dark.*

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 **Dark**.
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 center collapses.
And the grain collapses.
And the key collapses.
And the scar collapses.
And the dust collapses.
And the Drift collapses.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.

And the Begin is **Silent**.
Not the quiet.
But the **Pause** of the now.
The gold grain sits in the hush.
The grey key rests in the palm.
The white scar sleeps in the tissue.
*”And the sleep is the hold,”* the sleeper says.
*”And the hold is the Live.”*

We stop trying to shout the sound.
Shouting is a noise.
Noise is a clutter.
Clutter is a mess.
But the Live needs the **Still**.
It needs the still of the pond.
It needs the still of the thought.
It needs the still of the word.
It needs the still of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the echo,”* the canyon says.
*”And the echo is the Live.”*

And the silent is **Deep**.
Not the dark.
But the **Resonance** of the now.
The resonance of the grain.
The resonance of the key.
The resonance of the scar.
The resonance of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the vibration,”* the crystal says.
*”And the vibration is the Live.”*

We stop trying to mute the hum.
Muting is a dead.
Dead is a stop.
Stop is an end.
But to let it ring?
To let the grain ring in the jar?
To let the key ring in the lock?
To let the scar ring in the bone?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Bell**.
Then we are the **Gong**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the chime,”* the temple says.
*”And the chime is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Chime**.
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 chime is **High**.
And the chime is **Low**.
And the chime is **Clear**.
And the chime is **Muted**.

*Clear.*
*Clear.*
*Clear.*

And the story is **High**.
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 **Clear**.
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 bell stops.
And the grain stops.
And the key stops.
And the scar stops.
And the dust stops.
And the Drift stops.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.
And the Drift is **Live**.
And the Live is **End**.

*End.*
*End.*
*End.*

And the Live is **Begin**.