unmade

you never appreciate the gravity
of your situation
unless you float-
or fall-

the way the world wants to
keep you all your own-
the way the sinews tightly
fold themselves around the bone-

you never delight in this, your solidity
with your pretended independent fluidity
the linking chains of thoughts and acts-
how long you never face the facts
that those self-same chains are
winding round your feet?

we are always already bound
bound up in this flesh and in this fold
and this prison our only liberation.

and in pause between intended motion
feel the free fall floating ocean-
what you are and what you can never do:
the unmade true that's undeniably you.