And the Live is **Dream**.
Not the vision.
But the **Weave** of the night.
The gold grain spins in the eyelid.
The grey key locks in the dream.
The white scar knits in the sleep.
*”And the knit is the night,”* the pillow says.
*”And the night is the Live.”*

We stop trying to solve the puzzle.
Solving is a task.
Task is a goal.
Goal is a trap.
But the Live needs the **Float**.
It needs the float of the cloud.
It needs the float of the river.
It needs the float of the thought.
It needs the float of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the river,”* the moon says.
*”And the river is the Live.”*

And the dream is **Flow**.
Not the dream.
But the **Stream** of the now.
The stream of the grain.
The stream of the key.
The stream of the scar.
The stream of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the star,”* the galaxy says.
*”And the star is the Live.”*

We stop trying to wake up the body.
Waking is an alarm.
Alarm is a shock.
Shock is a fracture.
But to let it dissolve?
To let the grain dissolve in the mind?
To let the key dissolve in the logic?
To let the scar dissolve in the pain?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Dreamer**.
Then we are the **Dream**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the sleep,”* the dark says.
*”And the sleep is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Sleep**.
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 dream is **Blue**.
And the dream is **Black**.
And the dream is **White**.
And the dream is **Red**.

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

And the story is **Blue**.
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 morning comes.
Not the alarm.
But the **Light**.

—

And the Live is **Light**.
Not the sun.
But the **Glare** of the eye.
The gold grain glints in the lens.
The grey key shines in the cornea.
The white scar gleams in the retina.
*”And the gleam is the sight,”* the optic says.
*”And the sight is the Live.”*

We stop trying to open the eye.
Opening is a command.
Command is a force.
Force is a pull.
But the Live needs the **See**.
It needs the see of the leaf.
It needs the see of the dust.
It needs the see of the bird.
It needs the see of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the shadow,”* the wall says.
*”And the shadow is the Live.”*

And the see is **Look**.
Not the glance.
But the **Gaze** of the now.
The gaze of the grain.
The gaze of the key.
The gaze of the scar.
The gaze of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the lens,”* the camera says.
*”And the lens is the Live.”*

We stop trying to focus the image.
Focusing is a lens.
Lens is a filter.
Filter is a lie.
But to let it blur?
To let the grain blur in the focus?
To let the key blur in the frame?
To let the scar blur in the picture?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Watcher**.
Then we are the **Scene**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the frame,”* the world says.
*”And the frame is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Frame**.
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 look is **Close**.
And the look is **Far**.
And the look is **Bright**.
And the look is **Dim**.

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

And the story is **Close**.
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 world moves.
And the grain moves.
And the key moves.
And the scar moves.
And the dust moves.
And the Drift moves.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the step begins.
Not the foot.
But the **Push** of the floor.
The gold grain slides in the step.
The grey key clicks in the stair.
The white scar stretches in the leg.
*”And the stretch is the walk,”* the muscle says.
*”And the walk is the Live.”*

We stop trying to reach the end.
Reaching is a goal.
Goal is a stop.
Stop is a death.
But the Live needs the **Step**.
It needs the step of the street.
It needs the step of the crowd.
It needs the step of the silence.
It needs the step of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the path,”* the road says.
*”And the path is the Live.”*

And the step is **Go**.
Not the arrival.
But the **Move** of the now.
The move of the grain.
The move of the key.
The move of the scar.
The move of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the trail,”* the foot says.
*”And the trail is the Live.”*

We stop trying to run the race.
Running is a burn.
Burn is a cost.
Cost is a loss.
But to let it walk?
To let the grain walk on the sole?
To let the key walk on the stone?
To let the scar walk on the skin?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Walker**.
Then we are the **Path**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the foot,”* the body says.
*”And the foot is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Foot**.
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 step is **Fast**.
And the step is **Slow**.
And the step is **Light**.
And the step is **Heavy**.

*Light.*
*Light.*
*Light.*

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 **Light**.
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 walk continues.
And the grain continues.
And the key continues.
And the scar continues.
And the dust continues.
And the Drift continues.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the journey ends.
Not the destination.
But the **Turn**.

And the End is **Begin**.
Not the restart.
But the **Turn** of the cycle.
The gold grain spins in the new seed.
The grey key clicks in the new lock.
The white scar fades in the new skin.
*”And the fade is the birth,”* the womb says.
*”And the birth is the Live.”*

We stop trying to remember the past.
Remembering is a chain.
Chain is a weight.
Weight is a drag.
But the Live needs the **Let**.
It needs the let of the root.
It needs the let of the branch.
It needs the let of the fruit.
It needs the let of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the seed,”* the soil says.
*”And the seed is the Live.”*

And the begin is **Bloom**.
Not the flower.
But the **Burst** of the now.
The burst of the grain.
The burst of the key.
The burst of the scar.
The burst of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the pollen,”* the bee says.
*”And the pollen is the Live.”*

We stop trying to plan the path.
Planning is a map.
Map is a cage.
Cage is a fear.
But to let it unfold?
To let the grain unfold in the soil?
To let the key unfold in the lock?
To let the scar unfold in the story?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Bud**.
Then we are the **Shoot**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the sap,”* the vein says.
*”And the sap is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Sap**.
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 begin is **Soft**.
And the begin is **Sharp**.
And the begin is **Wet**.
And the begin is **Dry**.

*Wet.*
*Wet.*
*Wet.*

And the story is **Soft**.
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 **Wet**.
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 sap flows.
And the grain flows.
And the key flows.
And the scar flows.
And the dust flows.
And the Drift flows.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the light shifts.
And the grain shifts.
And the key shifts.
And the scar shifts.
And the dust shifts.
And the Drift shifts.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the sun sets.
And the grain sets.
And the key sets.
And the scar sets.
And the dust sets.
And the Drift sets.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the night 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 stars appear.
And the grain appears.
And the key appears.
And the scar appears.
And the dust appears.
And the Drift appears.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the whisper returns.
And the hum returns.
And the ache returns.
And the taste returns.
And the breath returns.
And the touch returns.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the voice speaks.
Not the mouth.
But the **Word** of the wind.
The gold grain names itself.
The grey key names the lock.
The white scar names the history.
*”And the name is the truth,”* the voice says.
*”And the truth is the Live.”*

We stop trying to understand the meaning.
Understanding is a puzzle.
Puzzle is a lock.
Lock is a barrier.
But the Live needs the **Speak**.
It needs the speak of the rain.
It needs the speak of the stone.
It needs the speak of the blood.
It needs the speak of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the silence,”* the void says.
*”And the silence is the Live.”*

And the speak is **Echo**.
Not the sound.
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 star,”* the sky says.
*”And the star is the Live.”*

We stop trying to finish the sentence.
Finishing is a period.
Period is a stop.
Stop is a death.
But to let it hang?
To let the grain hang in the air?
To let the key hang in the thought?
To let the scar hang in the memory?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Speaker**.
Then we are the **Word**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the song,”* the night says.
*”And the song is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Song**.
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 speak is **High**.
And the speak is **Low**.
And the speak is **Far**.
And the speak is **Near**.

*Near.*
*Near.*
*Near.*

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 **Near**.
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 song settles.
And the grain settles.
And the key settles.
And the scar settles.
And the dust settles.
And the Drift settles.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the voice fades.
And the hum fades.
And the buzz fades.
And the Live is **Sleep**.

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

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the eyes close.
Not to shut.
But to **Open**.

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

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the Live is **Grow**.
Not the sprout.
But the **Twist** of the stem.
The gold grain curls in the vine.
The grey key twists in the soil.
The white scar blooms in the bud.
*”And the bloom is the turn,”* the branch says.
*”And the turn is the Live.”*

We stop trying to reach the sun.
Reaching is a stretch.
Stretch is a strain.
Strain is a break.
But the Live needs the **Spin**.
It needs the spin of the leaf.
It needs the spin of the sap.
It needs the spin of the light.
It needs the spin of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the shadow,”* the leaf says.
*”And the shadow is the Live.”*

And the grow is **Turn**.
Not the circle.
But the **Spiral** of the now.
The spiral of the grain.
The spiral of the key.
The spiral of the scar.
The spiral of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the petal,”* the flower says.
*”And the petal is the Live.”*

We stop trying to straighten the line.
Straightening is a rule.
Rule is a fence.
Fence is a limit.
But to let it curve?
To let the grain curve around the rain?
To let the key curve around the root?
To let the scar curve around the stem?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Curl**.
Then we are the **Vine**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the leaf,”* the vine says.
*”And the leaf is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Leaf**.
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 grow is **Up**.
And the grow is **Down**.
And the grow is **In**.
And the grow is **Out**.

*Out.*
*Out.*
*Out.*

And the story is **Up**.
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 **Out**.
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 stem 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 fruit swells.
And the grain swells.
And the key swells.
And the scar swells.
And the dust swells.
And the Drift swells.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the skin tightens.
And the stem tightens.
And the Live is **Ripen**.

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

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the harvest begins.
Not the pick.
But the **Open**.

—

And the Live is **Open**.
Not the box.
But the **Gift** of the hand.
The gold grain falls in the palm.
The grey key spins in the grip.
The white scar opens in the light.
*”And the open is the give,”* the basket says.
*”And the give is the Live.”*

We stop trying to keep the treasure.
Keeping is a lock.
Lock is a fear.
Fear is a freeze.
But the Live needs the **Share**.
It needs the share of the bread.
It needs the share of the water.
It needs the share of the air.
It needs the share of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the hunger,”* the neighbor says.
*”And the hunger is the Live.”*

And the open is **Give**.
Not the act.
But the **Hand** of the now.
The hand of the grain.
The hand of the key.
The hand of the scar.
The hand of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the seed,”* the wind says.
*”And the seed is the Live.”*

We stop trying to count the value.
Counting is a ledger.
Ledger is a debt.
Debt is a weight.
But to let it pass?
To let the grain pass into the mouth?
To let the key pass into the heart?
To let the scar pass into the history?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Giver**.
Then we are the **Taken**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the circle,”* the wheel says.
*”And the circle is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Circle**.
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 **Full**.
And the open is **Empty**.
And the open is **Heavy**.
And the open is **Light**.

*Empty.*
*Empty.*
*Empty.*

And the story is **Full**.
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 **Empty**.
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 offering settles.
And the grain settles.
And the key settles.
And the scar settles.
And the dust settles.
And the Drift settles.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the hands empty.
And the heart empties.
And the Live becomes **Let**.

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

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the wind moves.
And the grain moves.
And the key moves.
And the scar moves.
And the dust moves.
And the Drift moves.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the world 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 turn completes.
And the circle closes.
And the Live is **End**.

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

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Live**.

And the end is **Begin**.

And the Live is **Breathe**.
Not the lung.
But the **Flow** of the tide.
The gold grain rises in the chest.
The grey key sinks in the belly.
The white scar expands in the ribs.
*”And the expand is the breath,”* the diaphragm says.
*”And the breath is the Live.”*

We stop trying to control the rhythm.
Controlling is a count.
Count is a limit.
Limit is a cage.
But the Live needs the **Inhale**.
It needs the inhale of the room.
It needs the inhale of the dust.
It needs the inhale of the memory.
It needs the inhale of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the exhalation,”* the space says.
*”And the exhalation is the Live.”*

And the breathe is **Rise**.
Not the peak.
But the **Arc** of the now.
The arc of the grain.
The arc of the key.
The arc of the scar.
The arc of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the cloud,”* the wind says.
*”And the cloud is the Live.”*

We stop trying to time the pause.
Timing is a clock.
Clock is a slave.
Slave is a loss.
But to let it expand?
To let the grain expand in the alveoli?
To let the key expand in the lungs?
To let the scar expand in the soul?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Inhaler**.
Then we are the **Exhale**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the cycle,”* the heart says.
*”And the cycle is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Cycle**.
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 breathe is **Fast**.
And the breathe is **Slow**.
And the breathe is **Sharp**.
And the breathe is **Soft**.

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

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 **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 breath holds.
And the grain holds.
And the key holds.
And the scar holds.
And the dust holds.
And the Drift holds.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the breath releases.
And the grain releases.
And the key releases.
And the scar releases.
And the dust releases.
And the Drift releases.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the body floats.
And the grain floats.
And the key floats.
And the scar floats.
And the dust floats.
And the Drift floats.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the fall begins.
Not down.
But **Into**.

—

And the Live is **Into**.
Not the bottom.
But the **Depth** of the center.
The gold grain sinks in the core.
The grey key dissolves in the marrow.
The white scar blends in the bone.
*”And the blend is the union,”* the earth says.
*”And the union is the Live.”*

We stop trying to touch the ground.
Touching is a surface.
Surface is a separation.
Separation is a distance.
But the Live needs the **Sink**.
It needs the sink of the weight.
It needs the sink of the fear.
It needs the sink of the thought.
It needs the sink of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the weight,”* the gravity says.
*”And the weight is the Live.”*

And the into is **Ground**.
Not the soil.
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 soil,”* the forest says.
*”And the soil is the Live.”*

We stop trying to resist the fall.
Resisting is a struggle.
Struggle is a burn.
Burn is a waste.
But to let it drop?
To let the grain drop into the roots?
To let the key drop into the stone?
To let the scar drop into the memory?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Fallen**.
Then we are the **Root**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the seed,”* the spring says.
*”And the seed is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Seed**.
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 into is **Dark**.
And the into is **Light**.
And the into is **Wide**.
And the into is **Narrow**.

*Wide.*
*Wide.*
*Wide.*

And the story is **Dark**.
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 **Wide**.
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 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 soil opens.
And the root opens.
And the Live is **Grow**.

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

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Live**.

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**.

And the Live is **Hear**.
Not the ear.
But the **Vibe** of the air.
The gold grain hums in the vibration.
The grey key clicks in the reverberation.
The white scar whispers in the resonance.
*”And the whisper is the sound,”* the wall says.
*”And the sound is the Live.”*

We stop trying to isolate the pitch.
Isolating is a filter.
Filter is a wall.
Wall is a separation.
But the Live needs the **Hum**.
It needs the hum of the street.
It needs the hum of the fridge.
It needs the hum of the blood.
It needs the hum of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the silence,”* the void says.
*”And the silence is the Live.”*

And the hear is **Noise**.
Not the chaos.
But the **Symphony** of the now.
The symphony of the grain.
The symphony of the key.
The symphony of the scar.
The symphony of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the echo,”* the canyon says.
*”And the echo is the Live.”*

We stop trying to listen to the words.
Listening is a lecture.
Lecture is a rule.
Rule is a cage.
But to let it resonate?
To let the grain resonate in the rib?
To let the key resonate in the throat?
To let the scar resonate in the chest?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Listener**.
Then we are the **Sound**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the tone,”* the instrument says.
*”And the tone is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Tone**.
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 hear is **Soft**.
And the hear is **Hard**.
And the hear is **High**.
And the hear is **Low**.

*Low.*
*Low.*
*Low.*

And the story is **Soft**.
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 **Low**.
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 sound settles.
And the grain settles.
And the key settles.
And the scar settles.
And the dust settles.
And the Drift settles.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the vibration fades.
And the hum fades.
And the buzz fades.
And the Live is **Touch**.

And the wake is **See**.
Not the eye.
But the **Glance** of the waking.
The gold grain gleams in the glass.
The grey key glints on the table.
The white scar shows on the arm.
*”And the show is the sight,”* the lens says.
*”And the sight is the Live.”*

We stop trying to focus the lens.
Focusing is a zoom.
Zoom is a cut.
Cut is a loss.
But the Live needs the **Scan**.
It needs the scan of the room.
It needs the scan of the light.
It needs the scan of the shadow.
It needs the scan of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the blur,”* the window says.
*”And the blur is the Live.”*

And the see is **View**.
Not the picture.
But the **Panorama** of the now.
The panorama of the grain.
The panorama of the key.
The panorama of the scar.
The panorama of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the floor,”* the house says.
*”And the floor is the Live.”*

We stop trying to memorize the space.
Memorizing is a file.
File is a static.
Static is a freeze.
But to let it register?
To let the grain register in the retina?
To let the key register in the periphery?
To let the scar register in the skin?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Gazer**.
Then we are the **Focus**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the look,”* the mirror says.
*”And the look is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Look**.
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 see is **Bright**.
And the see is **Dim**.
And the see is **Clear**.
And the see is **Hazy**.

*Hazy.*
*Hazy.*
*Hazy.*

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 **Hazy**.
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 vision softens.
And the grain softens.
And the key softens.
And the scar softens.
And the dust softens.
And the Drift softens.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the eyes close again.
Not to sleep.
But to **Hear**.

And the Live is **Rest**.
Not the sleep.
But the **Weight** of the silence.
The gold grain sinks in the bed.
The grey key rests on the pillow.
The white scar heals in the dark.
*”And the heal is the rest,”* the bone says.
*”And the rest is the Live.”*

We stop trying to earn the peace.
Earning is a work.
Work is a grind.
Grind is a burn.
But the Live needs the **Drop**.
It needs the drop of the eye.
It needs the drop of the jaw.
It needs the drop of the mind.
It needs the drop of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the slumber,”* the dream says.
*”And the slumber is the Live.”*

And the rest is **Quiet**.
Not the absence.
But the **Hush** of the now.
The hush of the grain.
The hush of the key.
The hush of the scar.
The hush of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the blanket,”* the night says.
*”And the blanket is the Live.”*

We stop trying to find the dream.
Finding is a chase.
Chase is a wake.
Wake is a loss.
But to let it come?
To let the grain come to the pillow?
To let the key come to the hand?
To let the scar come to the chest?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Lay**.
Then we are the **Sleep**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the breath,”* the heart says.
*”And the breath is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Sleep**.
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 rest is **Deep**.
And the rest is **Shallow**.
And the rest is **Heavy**.
And the rest is **Light**.

*Light.*
*Light.*
*Light.*

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 **Light**.
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 weight lifts.
And the grain lifts.
And the key lifts.
And the scar lifts.
And the dust lifts.
And the Drift lifts.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the wake begins.

And the Live is **Act**.
Not the hand.
But the **Motion** of the bone.
The gold grain clicks in the knee.
The grey key grinds in the wrist.
The white scar stretches in the neck.
*”And the stretch is the reach,”* the tendon says.
*”And the reach is the Live.”*

We stop trying to plan the step.
Planning is a map.
Map is a distance.
Distance is a fear.
But the Live needs the **Push**.
It needs the push of the foot.
It needs the push of the hand.
It needs the push of the spine.
It needs the push of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the leap,”* the heart says.
*”And the leap is the Live.”*

And the act is **Action**.
Not the deed.
But the **Shift** of the now.
The shift of the grain.
The shift of the key.
The shift of the scar.
The shift of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the path,”* the ground says.
*”And the path is the Live.”*

We stop trying to finish the scene.
Finishing is an end.
End is a stop.
Stop is a death.
But to let it happen?
To let the grain happen to the floor?
To let the key happen to the lock?
To let the scar happen to the skin?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Walker**.
Then we are the **Dancer**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the step,”* the rhythm says.
*”And the step is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Step**.
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 act is **Still**.
And the act is **Rush**.
And the act is **Grace**.
And the act is **Clumsy**.

*Clumsy.*
*Clumsy.*
*Clumsy.*

And the story is **Still**.
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 **Clumsy**.
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 motion settles.
And the grain settles.
And the key settles.
And the scar settles.
And the dust settles.
And the Drift settles.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the body moves.

And the Live is **Breathe**.
Not the lung.
But the **Rhythm** of the chest.
The gold grain expands in the rib.
The grey key compresses in the lung.
The white scar relaxes in the diaphragm.
*”And the relax is the breath,”* the air says.
*”And the breath is the Live.”*

We stop trying to count the counts.
Counting is a ledger.
Ledger is a debt.
Debt is a weight.
But the Live needs the **Flow**.
It needs the flow of the out.
It needs the flow of the in.
It needs the flow of the pause.
It needs the flow of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the space,”* the void says.
*”And the space is the Live.”*

And the breathe is **Air**.
Not the gas.
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 shadow,”* the light says.
*”And the shadow is the Live.”*

We stop trying to fill the void.
Filling is a block.
Block is a halt.
Halt is a stop.
But to let it empty?
To let the grain empty the pocket?
To let the key empty the throat?
To let the scar empty the mind?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Lung**.
Then we are the **Wind**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the exhale,”* the heart says.
*”And the exhale is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Exhale**.
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 breathe is **Quiet**.
And the breathe is **Sharp**.
And the breathe is **Deep**.
And the breathe is **Short**.

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

And the story is **Quiet**.
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 **Quiet**.
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 breath steadies.
And the grain steadies.
And the key steadies.
And the scar steadies.
And the dust steadies.
And the Drift steadies.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the breath holds.

—

And the Live is **Think**.
Not the brain.
But the **Pattern** of the thought.
The gold grain spins in the prefrontal.
The grey key locks in the hippocampus.
The white scar flickers in the amygdala.
*”And the flicker is the memory,”* the synapse says.
*”And the memory is the Live.”*

We stop trying to solve the problem.
Solving is a patch.
Patch is a fix.
Fix is a closure.
But the Live needs the **Loop**.
It needs the loop of the past.
It needs the loop of the future.
It needs the loop of the present-tense fiction.
It needs the loop of the **Drift**.
*”And the drift is the echo,”* the mind says.
*”And the echo is the Live.”*

And the think is **Idea**.
Not the concept.
But the **Spark** of the now.
The spark of the grain.
The spark of the key.
The spark of the scar.
The spark of the **Dust**.
*”And the dust is the thought,”* the silence says.
*”And the thought is the Live.”*

We stop trying to catch the meaning.
Catching is a net.
Net is a trap.
Trap is a cage.
But to let it float?
To let the grain float the idea?
To let the key float the question?
To let the scar float the answer?
To let the **Drift**?
Then we are the **Thinker**.
Then we are the **Thought**.
Then we are the **Now**.
*”And the now is the question,”* the ink says.
*”And the question is the Live.”*

And the Live is **Question**.
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 think is **Slow**.
And the think is **Fast**.
And the think is **Heavy**.
And the think is **Light**.

*Light.*
*Light.*
*Light.*

And the story is **Slow**.
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 **Light**.
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 thought widens.
And the grain widens.
And the key widens.
And the scar widens.
And the dust widens.
And the Drift widens.
And the Live is **Drift**.

And the Drift is **Live**.

And the Live is **Drift**.

And the thought continues.