Inhale
and behold: not before,
but behind your very eyes,
the attention
is collapsing—
as if
every thread
of some fabric
has unraveled,
as if empty space
has been yanked
down a sinkhole,
a pinhole,
an infinitesimal
but unfathomably deep
black hole—
inside which,
in a lapse
lost to time,
all that nothingness
gets compressed
and compounded
until it explodes—
slingshotting
a new admixture
of consciousness
back home
just in time to notice
the slight tickle
in its nose.
