William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Space

5 Comments

Running through space, and with each breath the same space running through me, then becoming space again. The body passing through space, feeling space yield without breaking or being divided, fluid like water. Space clinging to the skin and entering through the pores. Space in the blood. Space in the cells. Space the distance between stars. Uphill and down, to stop at the door. Quietly, now, not to disturb. Space in the rooms. Space to the walls. Space on the floor. Space in the sink. In the coffee pot. Around the plants on the window sill. Space intimate, the lover of words.

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Categories: Sweet Sleep and Bare Feet

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5 replies ›

  1. Donna
    February 8, 2022 • 6:26 am

    Ye may have sleuthed yet another word for “աստված” .

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Elisabeth
    February 8, 2022 • 11:57 am

    My daughter once planned to do a PhD on empty space which of course is never really empty, in our imaginations. You describe it here so beautifully, this thing called space. As ephemeral as dust, another possible PhD topic.

    Liked by 1 person

    • William Michaelian
      February 8, 2022 • 12:29 pm

      That’s interesting about your daughter. While today’s note was inspired by my early-morning run, space, it seems, is a subject I feel the occasional need to return to. For instance, there’s this one, written last April, under the title “Something Between Us”:

      “It’s natural that we probe the universe for signs of life, but remember: the universe itself is a living thing, and the seeming nothingness we call space is as vital to our existence as that which, to our perception, we find it contains. We may classify space as nothing, or call it emptiness, but it’s the medium that holds the note and conveys the dance of light; without it, nothing physical in our human ken would be visible or solid. Even space itself is visible, just as water is visible to that which lives in its realm. But we are addicted to the habit of looking for whatever reflects light — to whatever shows to our eyes — and to ignoring all the rest. And yet, to reach one another, whether we travel across the room or across the universe, we owe the miracle of our meeting to that gentle, benevolent force.”

      Thanks, Elisabeth.

      Liked by 1 person