The rugged terrain of space.
\nWhat it must cost
\nto extend an arm into nothing, carve a pattern through the air.
\nThe cost, some days
\nof a gesture, of travel across a room, of raising my gaze.<\/p>\n
I walk in heels, bare legs moving under me as I sway,
\nback and forth and back and forth.
\nI reflect on the journeys I have made–wonder
\nwhat journeys you have made–
\nto get here.<\/p>\n
What is your path?
\nDid you stumble here Darling,
\nat the end of some trip, some bender, or spree?
\nDid you come galloping across the rugged terrain, a conqueror, a cowboy?
\nWere you moved by impulse, some happy mistake, or
\ndid you think about me today? Maybe on your lunch break
\nyou adjusted the tie away from your throat and a smile crossed your face.
\nDid you come here as ritual, a way to pay homage, a way to trust the moment?
\nDid you come here to see or be seen?
\nDid you come here to save or be saved?
\nDid you flee? <\/p>\n
Perhaps you have come here across miles and miles of impassable, impossible mountains, pursued across space, preserving only the Dharma in your heart and a deep, profound need to be of benefit, to help the suffering.
\nDid you come here to help me know my mind?
\nDid you come here to help me be kind?
\nDid you save the last dance for me?<\/p>\n
I imagine you came here as a gift.
\nI imagine myself as the present.
\nLet me bring you here for an hour of beauty. Please.
\nDid you come here as part of the hustle?
\nThe choiceless choice, the flow?
\nI imagine you came here as a way to care. Let me share some.<\/p>\n
I don’t need to know the regular stories.
\nLeave those clamoring beasts at the door; they cost far too much.
\nReach inside and find the most quiet, the most secret,
\nthe most awe-full.
\nWe can make it all up if we want.
\nWhat if we told a story that was completely new?
\nIs it even possible?<\/p>\n
We might meet for a moment.
\nWe may fall in love, so fortunate.
\nWe may wonder if we will ever meet again
\nWalking our paths.
\nI walk my path some days in six-inch heels.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The rugged terrain of space. What it must cost to extend an arm into nothing, carve a pattern through the air. The cost, some days of a gesture, of travel across a room, of raising my gaze. I walk in heels, bare legs moving under me as I sway, back and forth and back and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-85","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.sterlingslyce.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/85","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.sterlingslyce.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.sterlingslyce.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.sterlingslyce.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.sterlingslyce.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=85"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/www.sterlingslyce.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/85\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":88,"href":"http:\/\/www.sterlingslyce.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/85\/revisions\/88"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.sterlingslyce.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=85"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.sterlingslyce.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=85"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.sterlingslyce.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=85"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}