The Way You Move this is the only kind of faith that I have, I say, without evidence, that what we do in this life – who we are to each other – goes beyond ourselves, beyond time bounds, beyond our painful material, it reaches, it moves, it carries a banner, where it will go and how long it will travel and even, obnoxiously, what that banner declares is beyond our control, but go it does we radiate, we live in other minds, we are carried to places unthought, and out there deep in the vastness of our universe, travelling at terminal speed through the blackened firmament, piercing, is the image of you getting a new tattoo, tears running down your cheeks and wiping them on your pillow, is the image of you holding new life in your hands, is the image of you lingering beside a lonely road and not saying anything but wanting to remember this, not wanting to forget this view and, and the feeling, again, the thing you can’t name inside you, the image of you opening your eyes unto the world, the blue, the I couldn’t believe I couldn’t tell they were blue, the image of you in a chair by a creek, the image of you burying your lips in my cheek, these and other things, I cannot show you the marks, the indents on my brain, the letters scribed within my chest, I have no evidence you see, none of us do, all I can tell you is that these things are there, the good and the bad, everything really, going and going, moving and moving it’s the only faith that I have the only thing I hold on to