I don’t know anything. often the closest I come is true recognition. a faint light out of the corner of my eye. a film of color passing by. a small rock in my hand that tells all. a sound that reminds me of a time before anything I’ve ever lived. And so if this is true - what is mine? and what is just borrowed? like a perfect still membrane between this and that. floating on what we have been given. and hovering just below what we have to give. like a mothers song. a low drum beat. deep breathing. this is for all we know.