the heaviness of my body calluses my feet;
here, look--
the weight of my existence,
the soreness of my feet, because
they are found useful
from their pounding
the floor of the empty hallway.
every step in one direction
thickens my skin--
and the movement of my cramping muscles;
my feeling weighs and solidifies
my body--here,
sore and tired, pressing into the floor,
into the chair,
into my past.

opening my eyes i find i am slipping, falling
forward
into a looser, lighter flow,
into the mist just as it begins to clear.
my weight falls behind me;
and then creeps upon me:
my empty, weightless body gains
the cumbersome thickness of flesh,
and slippery coming existence congeals--

and the light is not as bright
as it used to be in here:
perhaps the fireflies are weaker now.
but the light is
much brigher outside
in the awe-full night sky specked with stars
and holes.