FULL MOON ON TOP OF A CHAMPAGNE PALM'S TIP

this act
sucks my soul out of my body
emaciated, and left out, and exhausted
meanwhile the soul becomes fire, changes from time to time
into metaphors of bird, stone, cloud,
and even a river,

there is always a flow, a flux, a rising,
from a falling and stagnancy,
like a stirring rod in cold water inside a glass
putting a whirlpool of possibilities.
this is art, life, transcendence,
this is us
souls always searching for other souls
our eyes dispensed.