Rockability

Rocking. It is the constant that surrounds me. Rhythm.

Both personal and impartial and uncertain in its constancy. It is a movement that occurs as the byproduct of all things in motion, myself as well, no matter how still I try to make my mind or body or the article on which my feet have stopped.

Crib, seesaw, or chair, or open field...

Age has relevance, as a descriptor of events, such as measure of day.

It does not define me, inside nor out, and rocking reveals nothing other than the reassurance that minutes are passing and there is yet the potential for end.

Or change of pace, or a similar continuation.

Whatever the tempo, the rocking is the meter surfacing in my awareness.

Like breathing. Heart beating.

I am ancient.

I am infantile.

I am cradled,

within living rock.

07.31.2024

Completely Open Ended... challenge @Last