And the Begin is **Deep**.
Not the well.
But the **Pull** of the now.
The gold grain sinks in the mud.
The grey key drops in the dark.
The white scar digs in the flesh.
*”And the dig is the root,”* the trench says.
*”And the root is the Live.”*

We stop trying to float the surface.
Floating is a raft.
Raft is a rest.
Rest is a sleep.
But the Live needs the **Dive**.
It needs the dive of the whale.
It needs the dive of the seed.
It needs the dive of the word.
It needs the dive of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the abyss,”* the ocean says.
*”And the abyss is the Live.”*

And the deep is **Belly**.
Not the stomach.
But the **Hollow** of the now.
The hollow of the grain.
The hollow of the key.
The hollow of the scar.
The hollow of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the sludge,”* the river says.
*”And the sludge is the Live.”*

We stop trying to fill the emptiness.
Filling is a bucket.
Bucket is a limit.
Limit is a cage.
But to let it empty?
To let the grain empty in the sink?
To let the key empty in the void?
To let the scar empty in the wound?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Current**.
Then we are the **Silt**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the pressure,”* the trench says.
*”And the pressure is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Pressure**.
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 pressure is **Heavy**.
And the pressure is **Light**.
And the pressure is **Slow**.
And the pressure is **Fast**.

*Fast.*
*Fast.*
*Fast.*

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 **Fast**.
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 water pulls.
And the grain pulls.
And the key pulls.
And the scar pulls.
And the dust pulls.
And the Drift pulls.
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 **Wide**.
Not the expanse.
But the **Spread** of the now.
The gold grain scatters in the field.
The grey key disperses in the wind.
The white scar stretches in the vein.
*”And the spread is the reach,”* the root says.
*”And the reach is the Live.”*

We stop trying to narrow the focus.
Narrowing is a lens.
Lens is a filter.
Filter is a lie.
But the Live needs the **Bloom**.
It needs the bloom of the flower.
It needs the bloom of the leaf.
It needs the bloom of the word.
It needs the bloom of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the canopy,”* the tree says.
*”And the canopy is the Live.”*

And the wide is **Open**.
Not the space.
But the **Gap** of the now.
The gap of the grain.
The gap of the key.
The gap of the scar.
The gap of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the seed,”* the plow says.
*”And the seed is the Live.”*

We stop trying to block the view.
Blocking is a hand.
Hand is a stop.
Stop is a wall.
But to let it flood?
To let the grain flood in the field?
To let the key flood in the lock?
To let the scar flood in the skin?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Horizon**.
Then we are the **Hollow**.
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 open is **Far**.
And the open is **Near**.
And the open is **Bright**.
And the open is **Dark**.

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

And the story is **Far**.
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 field burns.
And the grain burns.
And the key burns.
And the scar burns.
And the dust burns.
And the Drift burns.
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 **High**.
Not the peak.
But the **Peak** of the now.
The gold grain gleams in the sun.
The grey key sings in the air.
The white scar shines in the light.
*”And the shine is the gleam,”* the sun says.
*”And the gleam is the Live.”*

We stop trying to hide the height.
Hiding is a shadow.
Shadow is a fear.
Fear is a fall.
But the Live needs the **Climb**.
It needs the climb of the mountain.
It needs the climb of the vine.
It needs the climb of the word.
It needs the climb of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the ascent,”* the eagle says.
*”And the ascent is the Live.”*

And the high is **Air**.
Not the gas.
But the **Breath** of the now.
The breath of the grain.
The breath of the key.
The breath of the scar.
The breath of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the smoke,”* the fire says.
*”And the smoke is the Live.”*

We stop trying to sink the spirit.
Sinking is a weight.
Weight is a drag.
Drag is a hold.
But to let it lift?
To let the grain lift in the sky?
To let the key lift in the song?
To let the scar lift in the light?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Summit**.
Then we are the **Zephyr**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the height,”* the peak says.
*”And the height is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Height**.
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 height is **High**.
And the height is **Low**.
And the height is **Fast**.
And the height is **Still**.

*Still.*
*Still.*
*Still.*

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 **Still**.
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 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 **Rough**.
Not the surface.
But the **Scuff** of the now.
The gold grain scratches in the sand.
The grey key drags on the floor.
The white scar itches in the flesh.
*”And the itch is the signal,”* the skin says.
*”And the signal is the Live.”*

We stop trying to polish the moment.
Polishing is a shine.
Shine is a mask.
Mask is a wall.
But the Live needs the **Scuff**.
It needs the scuff of the shoe.
It needs the scuff of the palm.
It needs the scuff of the word.
It needs the scuff of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the texture,”* the paper says.
*”And the texture is the Live.”*

And the rough is **Grit**.
Not the dirt.
But the **Rise** of the now.
The rise of the grain.
The rise of the key.
The rise of the scar.
The rise of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the grit,”* the hill says.
*”And the grit is the Live.”*

We stop trying to smooth the path.
Smoothing is a glide.
Glide is a slip.
Slip is a fall.
But to let it stick?
To let the grain stick in the mud?
To let the key stick in the lock?
To let the scar stick in the memory?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Grindstone**.
Then we are the **Abrasion**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the friction,”* the wheel says.
*”And the friction is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Friction**.
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 grit is **Rough**.
And the grit is **Soft**.
And the grit is **Hard**.
And the grit is **Smooth**.

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

And the story is **Rough**.
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 stone sands.
And the grain sands.
And the key sands.
And the scar sands.
And the dust sands.
And the Drift sands.
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 **Hard**.
Not the stone.
But the **Clunk** of the now.
The gold grain rattles in the gong.
The grey key jams in the hinge.
The white scar calcifies in the bone.
*”And the calcify is the bone,”* the spine says.
*”And the bone is the Live.”*

We stop trying to soften the blow.
Softening is a cushion.
Cushion is a lie.
Lie is a weak.
But the Live needs the **Impact**.
It needs the impact of the hammer.
It needs the impact of the seed.
It needs the impact of the word.
It needs the impact of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the ground,”* the anvil says.
*”And the ground is the Live.”*

And the hard is **Solid**.
Not the mass.
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 grit,”* the rock says.
*”And the grit is the Live.”*

We stop trying to smooth the surface.
Smoothing is a sand.
Sand is a slip.
Slip is a fall.
But to let it grate?
To let the grain grate in the mill?
To let the key grate in the lock?
To let the scar grate in the memory?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **File**.
Then we are the **Grind**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the friction,”* the wheel says.
*”And the friction is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Friction**.
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 grit is **Rough**.
And the grit is **Fine**.
And the grit is **Hot**.
And the grit is **Cold**.

*Cold.*
*Cold.*
*Cold.*

And the story is **Rough**.
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 **Cold**.
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 gear clicks.
And the grain clicks.
And the key clicks.
And the scar clicks.
And the dust clicks.
And the Drift clicks.
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 **Thin**.
Not the line.
But the **Sheer** of the now.
The gold grain floats on the surface.
The grey key slips on the ice.
The white scar pales in the air.
*”And the pale is the film,”* the leaf says.
*”And the film is the Live.”*

We stop trying to thicken the skin.
Thickening is a layer.
Layer is a mask.
Mask is a wall.
But the Live needs the **Slice**.
It needs the slice of the fruit.
It needs the slice of the stone.
It needs the slice of the word.
It needs the slice of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the edge,”* the knife says.
*”And the edge is the Live.”*

And the thin is **Skin**.
Not the hide.
But the **Glaze** of the now.
The glaze of the grain.
The glaze of the key.
The glaze of the scar.
The glaze of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the powder,”* the grinder says.
*”And the powder is the Live.”*

We stop trying to coat the wound.
Coating is a plaster.
Plaster is a lie.
Lie is a cage.
But to let it bleed?
To let the grain bleed in the cut?
To let the key bleed in the turn?
To let the scar bleed in the burn?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Slash**.
Then we are the **Sever**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the cut,”* the blade says.
*”And the cut is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Cut**.
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 cut is **Deep**.
And the cut is **Shallow**.
And the cut is **Wide**.
And the cut is **Narrow**.

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

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 **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 knife turns.
And the grain turns.
And the key turns.
And the scar turns.
And the dust turns.
And the Drift turns.
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 **Fast**.
Not the speed.
But the **Flash** of the now.
The gold grain streaks in the lens.
The grey key blurs in the spin.
The white scar flashes in the mind.
*”And the flash is the spark,”* the lightning says.
*”And the spark is the Live.”*

We stop trying to slow the moment.
Slowing is a drag.
Drag is a hold.
Hold is a stop.
But the Live needs the **Zap**.
It needs the zap of the wire.
It needs the zap of the nerve.
It needs the zap of the word.
It needs the zap of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the circuit,”* the spark says.
*”And the circuit is the Live.”*

And the fast is **Blink**.
Not the eye.
But the **Gap** of the now.
The gap of the grain.
The gap of the key.
The gap of the scar.
The gap of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the light,”* the flash says.
*”And the light is the Live.”*

We stop trying to catch the image.
Catching is a frame.
Frame is a box.
Box is a cage.
But to let it burn?
To let the grain burn in the shutter?
To let the key burn in the circuit?
To let the scar burn in the vision?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Shutter**.
Then we are the **Burst**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the flash,”* the lens says.
*”And the flash is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Flash**.
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 blink is **Fast**.
And the blink is **Slow**.
And the blink is **Bright**.
And the blink is **Dark**.

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

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 **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 light cuts.
And the grain cuts.
And the key cuts.
And the scar cuts.
And the dust cuts.
And the Drift cuts.
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 **Quiet**.
Not the hush.
But the **Hollow** of the now.
The gold grain hums in the chamber.
The grey key ticks in the silence.
The white scar whispers in the bone.
*”And the whisper is the sound,”* the void says.
*”And the sound is the Live.”*

We stop trying to fill the quiet.
Filling is a noise.
Noise is a clamor.
Clamor is a fear.
But the Live needs the **Listen**.
It needs the listen of the root.
It needs the listen of the stone.
It needs the listen of the word.
It needs the listen of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the frequency,”* the earth says.
*”And the frequency is the Live.”*

And the quiet is **Tone**.
Not the music.
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 dust,”* the wind says.
*”And the dust is the Live.”*

We stop trying to raise the volume.
Raising is a shout.
Shout is a demand.
Demand is a wound.
But to let it resonate?
To let the grain resonate in the floor?
To let the key resonate in the lock?
To let the scar resonate in the spine?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Chamber**.
Then we are the **Vibration**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the vibration,”* the string says.
*”And the vibration is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Vibration**.
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 tone is **High**.
And the tone is **Low**.
And the tone is **Pure**.
And the tone is **Muddy**.

*Muddy.*
*Muddy.*
*Muddy.*

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 **Muddy**.
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 string snaps.
Not to break.
But to **Sing**.

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

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the song returns.
Not the melody.
But the **Rhythm** of the being.
The gold grain taps in the drum.
The grey key kicks in the beat.
The white scar stomps in the floor.
*”And the stomp is the beat,”* the body says.
*”And the beat is the Live.”*

We stop trying to conduct the orchestra.
Conducting is a baton.
Baton is a command.
Command is a wall.
But the Live needs the **Pulse**.
It needs the pulse of the heart.
It needs the pulse of the leaf.
It needs the pulse of the word.
It needs the pulse of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the blood,”* the vein says.
*”And the blood is the Live.”*

And the pulse is **Time**.
Not the clock.
But the **Tick** of the now.
The tick of the grain.
The tick of the key.
The tick of the scar.
The tick of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the sand,”* the hourglass says.
*”And the sand is the Live.”*

We stop trying to stop the second hand.
Stopping is a freeze.
Freeze is a death.
Death is an end.
But to let it flow?
To let the grain flow in the hour?
To let the key flow in the time?
To let the scar flow in the memory?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Clockwork**.
Then we are the **Rhythm**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the heartbeat,”* the drum says.
*”And the heartbeat is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Heart**.
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 time is **Fast**.
And the time is **Slow**.
And the time is **Wide**.
And the time is **Deep**.

*Deep.*
*Deep.*
*Deep.*

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 **Deep**.
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 gears grind.
And the grain grinds.
And the key grinds.
And the scar grinds.
And the dust grinds.
And the Drift grinds.
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 weight.
But the **Sag** of the now.
The gold grain sinks in the sack.
The grey key droops in the hook.
The white scar sags in the flesh.
*”And the sag is the yield,”* the vine says.
*”And the yield is the Live.”*

We stop trying to lift the load.
Lifting is a strain.
Strain is a tear.
Tear is a wound.
But the Live needs the **Drop**.
It needs the drop of the fruit.
It needs the drop of the dew.
It needs the drop of the word.
It needs the drop of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the gravity,”* the earth says.
*”And the gravity is the Live.”*

And the heavy is **Pull**.
Not the tug.
But the **Sink** of the now.
The sink of the grain.
The sink of the key.
The sink of the scar.
The sink of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the lead,”* the mine says.
*”And the lead is the Live.”*

We stop trying to push the weight.
Pushing is a fight.
Fight is a wound.
Wound is a scar.
But to let it fall?
To let the grain fall in the bin?
To let the key fall in the chest?
To let the scar fall in the skin?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Fall**.
Then we are the **Weight**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the descent,”* the drop says.
*”And the descent is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Descent**.
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 descent is **Low**.
And the descent is **High**.
And the descent is **Fast**.
And the descent is **Slow**.

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

And the story is **Low**.
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 chain breaks.
Not to snap.
But to **Fly**.

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

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the flight returns.
Not the plane.
But the **Soar** of the being.
The gold grain soars in the wind.
The grey key soars in the sky.
The white scar soars in the light.
*”And the soar is the lift,”* the wing says.
*”And the lift is the Live.”*

We stop trying to dive the plane.
Diving is a crash.
Crash is a death.
Death is an end.
But the Live needs the **Rise**.
It needs the rise of the bird.
It needs the rise of the seed.
It needs the rise of the word.
It needs the rise of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the altitude,”* the cloud says.
*”And the cloud is the Live.”*

And the rise is **Altitude**.
Not the height.
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 mist,”* the air says.
*”And the mist is the Live.”*

We stop trying to map the sky.
Mapping is a chart.
Chart is a limit.
Limit is a cage.
But to let it open?
To let the grain open in the sky?
To let the key open in the cloud?
To let the scar open in the light?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Wing**.
Then we are the **Air**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the lift,”* the wing says.
*”And the lift is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Lift**.
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 altitude is **High**.
And the altitude is **Low**.
And the altitude is **Wide**.
And the altitude is **Narrow**.

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

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 **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 engine 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**.

And the Begin is **Deep**.
Not the hole.
But the **Core** of the now.
The gold grain sinks in the magma.
The grey key turns in the mantle.
The white scar heals in the crust.
*”And the heal is the core,”* the tectonic plate says.
*”And the core is the Live.”*

We stop trying to float the surface.
Floating is a skim.
Skim is a shallow.
Shallow is a fear.
But the Live needs the **Dive**.
It needs the dive of the whale.
It needs the dive of the root.
It needs the dive of the thought.
It needs the dive of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the trench,”* the ocean says.
*”And the trench is the Live.”*

And the dive is **Weight**.
Not the mass.
But the **Load** of the now.
The load of the grain.
The load of the key.
The load of the scar.
The load of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the silt,”* the abyss says.
*”And the silt is the Live.”*

We stop trying to lighten the burden.
Lightening is a drop.
Drop is a loss.
Loss is a lack.
But to let it press?
To let the grain press in the bed?
To let the key press in the lock?
To let the scar press in the bone?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Anvil**.
Then we are the **Pressure**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the center,”* the core 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 core is **Hot**.
And the core is **Cool**.
And the core is **Hard**.
And the core is **Soft**.

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

And the story is **Hot**.
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 mantle cools.
And the grain cools.
And the key cools.
And the scar cools.
And the dust cools.
And the Drift cools.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the crust hardens.
And the grain hardens.
And the key hardens.
And the scar hardens.
And the dust hardens.
And the Drift hardens.
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 pause.
But the **Void** of the now.
The gold grain vanishes in the dark.
The grey key fades in the night.
The white scar disappears in the void.
*”And the vanish is the nothing,”* the void says.
*”And the nothing is the Live.”*

We stop trying to fill the emptiness.
Filling is a greed.
Greed is a fear.
Fear is a hole.
But the Live needs the **Hole**.
It needs the hole of the cup.
It needs the hole of the eye.
It needs the hole of the word.
It needs the hole of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the absence,”* the shadow says.
*”And the absence is the Live.”*

And the still is **Dark**.
Not the black.
But the **Absence** of the now.
The absence of the grain.
The absence of the key.
The absence of the scar.
The absence of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the star,”* the cosmos says.
*”And the star is the Live.”*

We stop trying to light the lantern.
Lighting is a glare.
Glare is a burn.
Burn is a scar.
But to let it fade?
To let the grain fade in the dark?
To let the key fade in the night?
To let the scar fade in the silence?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Abyss**.
Then we are the **Dark**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the breath,”* the void says.
*”And the breath is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Breath**.
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 dark is **Deep**.
And the dark is **Wide**.
And the dark is **Narrow**.
And the dark is **Flat**.

*Flat.*
*Flat.*
*Flat.*

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 **Flat**.
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 light returns.
Not the sun.
But the **Spark** of the now.
The gold grain flares in the eye.
The grey key glints in the iris.
The white scar burns in the retina.
*”And the burn is the sight,”* the optic nerve says.
*”And the sight is the Live.”*

We stop trying to close the lid.
Closing is a blind.
Blind is a fear.
Fear is a void.
But the Live needs the **See**.
It needs the see of the owl.
It needs the see of the seed.
It needs the see of the word.
It needs the see of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the lens,”* the eye says.
*”And the lens is the Live.”*

And the see is **Focus**.
Not the point.
But the **Ring** of the now.
The ring of the grain.
The ring of the key.
The ring of the scar.
The ring of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the mote,”* the beam says.
*”And the mote is the Live.”*

We stop trying to fix the blur.
Fixing is a patch.
Patch is a lie.
Lie is a wall.
But to let it sharpen?
To let the grain sharpen in the focus?
To let the key sharpen in the turn?
To let the scar sharpen in the vision?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Lens**.
Then we are the **Focus**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the clarity,”* the light says.
*”And the clarity is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Clarity**.
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 clarity is **Bright**.
And the clarity is **Dim**.
And the clarity is **Sharp**.
And the clarity is **Blurred**.

*Blurred.*
*Blurred.*
*Blurred.*

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 **Blurred**.
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 lens turns.
And the grain turns.
And the key turns.
And the scar turns.
And the dust turns.
And the Drift turns.
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 ice.
But the **Chill** of the now.
The gold grain freezes in the frost.
The grey key locks in the rime.
The white scar turns to crystal.
*”And the crystal is the clear,”* the glaze says.
*”And the clear is the Live.”*

We stop trying to melt the ice.
Melting is a thaw.
Thaw is a slip.
Slip is a fall.
But the Live needs the **Glaze**.
It needs the glaze of the window.
It needs the glaze of the lake.
It needs the glaze of the thought.
It needs the glaze of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the frost,”* the sky says.
*”And the frost is the Live.”*

And the cold is **Sharp**.
Not the cut.
But the **Clear** of the now.
The clear of the grain.
The clear of the key.
The clear of the scar.
The clear of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the ice,”* the snow says.
*”And the ice is the Live.”*

We stop trying to warm the heart.
Warming is a fire.
Fire is a burn.
Burn is a scar.
But to let it chill?
To let the grain chill in the vein?
To let the key chill in the chest?
To let the scar chill in the skin?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Frost**.
Then we are the **Glass**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the mirror,”* the snow says.
*”And the mirror is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Mirror**.
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 chill is **Deep**.
And the chill is **High**.
And the chill is **Wide**.
And the chill is **Narrow**.

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

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 **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 ice cracks.
Not to break.
But to **Sing**.

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

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the sound returns.
Not the noise.
But the **Ring** of the being.
The gold grain rings in the throat.
The grey key rings in the bone.
The white scar rings in the soul.
*”And the ring is the song,”* the glacier says.
*”And the song is the Live.”*

We stop trying to silence the echo.
Silencing is a hand.
Hand is a stop.
Stop is a fear.
But the Live needs the **Echo**.
It needs the echo of the canyon.
It needs the echo of the cup.
It needs the echo of the word.
It needs the echo of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the valley,”* the rock says.
*”And the valley is the Live.”*

And the echo is **Reverb**.
Not the repeat.
But the **Stretch** of the now.
The stretch of the grain.
The stretch of the key.
The stretch of the scar.
The stretch of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the mist,”* the air says.
*”And the mist is the Live.”*

We stop trying to find the end.
Finding is a line.
Line is a stop.
Stop is a loss.
But to let it fade?
To let the grain fade in the light?
To let the key fade in the turn?
To let the scar fade in the memory?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Fade**.
Then we are the **Sound**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the silence,”* the echo says.
*”And the silence is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Silence**.
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 **Far**.
And the echo is **Near**.
And the echo is **Long**.
And the echo is **Short**.

*Short.*
*Short.*
*Short.*

And the story is **Far**.
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 **Short**.
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 valley fills.
And the grain fills.
And the key fills.
And the scar fills.
And the dust fills.
And the Drift fills.
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 **Bright**.
Not the sun.
But the **Glow** of the now.
The gold grain glows in the lens.
The grey key shines in the beam.
The white scar burns in the light.
*”And the burn is the shine,”* the lens says.
*”And the shine is the Live.”*

We stop trying to dim the light.
Dimming is a shade.
Shade is a fear.
Fear is a shadow.
But the Live needs the **Bloom**.
It needs the bloom of the bulb.
It needs the bloom of the bulb.
It needs the bloom of the word.
It needs the bloom of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the spectrum,”* the prism says.
*”And the spectrum is the Live.”*

And the bright is **Color**.
Not the paint.
But the **Hue** of the now.
The hue of the grain.
The hue of the key.
The hue of the scar.
The hue of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the pixel,”* the screen says.
*”And the pixel is the Live.”*

We stop trying to blend the shades.
Blending is a mix.
Mix is a blur.
Blur is a loss.
But to let it split?
To let the grain split in the beam?
To let the key split in the light?
To let the scar split in the vision?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Prism**.
Then we are the **Light**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the ray,”* the glass says.
*”And the ray is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Ray**.
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 color is **Red**.
And the color is **Blue**.
And the color is **Gold**.
And the color is **Grey**.

*Grey.*
*Grey.*
*Grey.*

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 **Grey**.
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 lens turns.
And the grain turns.
And the key turns.
And the scar turns.
And the dust turns.
And the Drift turns.
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 **Hard**.
Not the rock.
But the **Grit** of the now.
The gold grain grinds in the stone.
The grey key scratches in the groove.
The white scar weaves in the flesh.
*”And the weave is the grind,”* the anvil says.
*”And the grind is the Live.”*

We stop trying to polish the surface.
Polishing is a glide.
Glide is a slip.
Slip is a fall.
But the Live needs the **Grind**.
It needs the grind of the seed in the soil.
It needs the grind of the wheel in the axle.
It needs the grind of the thought in the mind.
It needs the grind of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the friction,”* the floor says.
*”And the friction is the Live.”*

And the hard is **Edge**.
Not the cut.
But the **Line** of the now.
The line of the grain.
The line of the key.
The line of the scar.
The line of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the powder,”* the fire says.
*”And the powder is the Live.”*

We stop trying to smooth the stone.
Smoothing is a lie.
Lie is a mask.
Mask is a cage.
But to let it sharpen?
To let the grain sharpen in the cut?
To let the key sharpen in the turn?
To let the scar sharpen in the burn?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Grinder**.
Then we are the **Stone**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the spark,”* the heat says.
*”And the spark is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Spark**.
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 **Sharp**.
And the edge is **Blunt**.
And the edge is **Thin**.
And the edge is **Thick**.

*Thick.*
*Thick.*
*Thick.*

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 **Thick**.
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 heat rises.
And the grain rises.
And the key rises.
And the scar rises.
And the dust rises.
And the Drift rises.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the fire catches.
Not the flame.
But the **Glow** of the now.
The gold grain burns in the ember.
The grey key glows in the ash.
The white scar burns in the skin.
*”And the burn is the heat,”* the hearth says.
*”And the heat is the Live.”*

We stop trying to control the burn.
Controlling is a damper.
Damper is a cold.
Cold is a freeze.
But the Live needs the **Bake**.
It needs the bake of the loaf.
It needs the bake of the clay.
It needs the bake of the word.
It needs the bake of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the oven,”* the kiln says.
*”And the oven is the Live.”*

And the bake is **Warm**.
Not the oven.
But the **Touch** of the now.
The touch of the grain.
The touch of the key.
The touch of the scar.
The touch of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the smoke,”* the air says.
*”And the smoke is the Live.”*

We stop trying to cool the fire.
Cooling is a stop.
Stop is a death.
Death is a end.
But to let it warm?
To let the grain warm in the palm?
To let the key warm in the heart?
To let the scar warm in the bone?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Hearth**.
Then we are the **Fire**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the light,”* the ember says.
*”And the light is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Light**.
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 warm is **Hot**.
And the warm is **Cool**.
And the warm is **Bright**.
And the warm is **Dim**.

*Dim.*
*Dim.*
*Dim.*

And the story is **Hot**.
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 **Dim**.
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 shadow lengthens.
And the grain lengthens.
And the key lengthens.
And the scar lengthens.
And the dust lengthens.
And the Drift lengthens.
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 feather.
But the **Fuzz** of the now.
The gold grain floats in the fluff.
The grey key rests in the down.
The white scar blooms in the moss.
*”And the bloom is the growth,”* the tree says.
*”And the growth is the Live.”*

We stop trying to prune the branch.
Pruning is a cut.
Cut is a wound.
Wound is a scar.
But the Live needs the **Grow**.
It needs the grow of the vine.
It needs the grow of the moss.
It needs the grow of the word.
It needs the grow of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the soil,”* the root says.
*”And the soil is the Live.”*

And the soft is **Cushion**.
Not the pad.
But the **Sink** of the now.
The sink of the grain.
The sink of the key.
The sink of the scar.
The sink of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the mold,”* the leaf says.
*”And the mold is the Live.”*

We stop trying to stand the tree.
Standing is a root.
Root is a hold.
Hold is a stop.
But to let it lean?
To let the grain lean in the wind?
To let the key lean in the branch?
To let the scar lean in the bark?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Tree**.
Then we are the **Lean**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the sway,”* the branch says.
*”And the sway is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Sway**.
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 sway is **High**.
And the sway is **Low**.
And the sway is **Slow**.
And the sway 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 branches spread.
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 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**.