Philosophy, the word seeps out like

water dripping from a cracked pipe,

leaking slowly but surely until what

was once in side is now out. Open &

opener, revealing truth on one side &

argument on the other, the pipe bursting

with opinions and opinions made fact,

glistening like hot sauce, liquid in the

sun light. but it’s not this hot sauce,

it’s philosophy. Of abandonment and

gratitude, of creaking doors opening,

being greased, becoming and becoming,

you could be the one we’ve been

discussing, or we could be discussing

philosophy. Of abandonment, of

structured, thoughtful abandonment, dripping

pieces away one by one until what

remains but a subtle shuttle, journeying

into space on the remains of fuel

from earth. All encompassing escape

leaving loneliness behind and drifting,

sweetly, towards the replacement: solitude.

Something ancient and profound in the silence

of new space, drifting, vacuum, I

take in the non-air & recognize it

is a separate fuel, more or less sustainable,

if I can only train my body

to use the oxygen of the stars,

the atmosphere has been shed,

the hunger loosed among 1,000

distant beasts, that first daring

gasp, eclipse, that filling up

with the void, philosophy, that

great and unencumbered prowling night.