How the soft inhabits the hard. How the real runs tidal through the break walls and the bridges.
Go ahead and set the table, with the fork on one side and the knife on the other. Center your dishes. Invite your guests.
And when the naked dervish of delight blooms from your hands and across the spread and through the crack in the window glass, be glad. For the mess and the confusion and the drawing of blood. Be glad. Get up. Raise your glass. Be the candle light. Dance.
This. This is it.