Untitled

Don't need a name. You have a finger. You have a button. All systems Go. Right now the purpose of what you're about to do is waiting poised in it's silo waiting for the signal. All that remains is the hot-flash of action, unrepresented, unexplained, unexplainable, the single pure punctuation of a dot in space that says: This Is. At that moment, everything is and shortly thereafter becomes everything else, motion set in motion, and with motion comes purpose, and the process of naming. Do first, do as if only to do, and then become. In doing lies the purpose, unfolded in the palm of action, kinetic birthing aesthetic, the ecstatic unfurling, the efforless analysis rocketing outward with exponential force, given freedom-existence-by the of the one nameless deed, that which precedes language and reflection, the source. The ignition. Ignite. Burn a fierce light. You will see yourself in the mirror.

[poetry]