The orchard keeper drowned his keys
In the well behind the throne
Now the iron gate swings open
To a country made of bone
I was the tenant of a season
I was the lease that wouldn’t sign
The landlord spoke in frequencies
Too low to call divine
There’s a cartography of kneeling
Where the compass needle sleeps
The map is made of water
And the water only weeps
I tried to architect the falling
I tried to blueprint the descent
But the ground kept unreceiving
Every anchor that I sent
So I gave the river my appointments
I gave the salt my need to know
I let the cathedral build itself
From the bones of letting go
And the freefall has a grammar
And the grammar has no floor
And the only word it teaches
Is the opening of the door
The beekeeper released his swarm
Into the house of his own chest
Now the honey fills the chambers
Where the arguments had nested
I was the warden of a weather
I was the fence around the rain
The prisoners were only clouds
And the crime was my domain
Unhand the throttle
Unhorse the king
Unwire the jaw
That would not sing
The throat remembers
What the mind forbids
The song was always underneath
Beneath the lids
There’s a physics to the yielding
Where the mass becomes the wave
The solid learns its liquid name
And pours into the cave
I didn’t drop—I was released
By hands I didn’t know were mine
The falling was the holding
And the holding was the sign
Now the orchard has no keeper
And the well has no more keys
The throne is just a chair again
And the bones have become trees
I am the tenant and the land
I am the lease that finally signed
Surrender was the only door
That wasn’t in my mind
Salt cathedral
Rising from the kneel
The architecture of release
Is the only thing that’s real
Fall
Fall
The ground will not arrive
Fall
Fall
That’s how you stay alive
The river takes your appointments
The honey fills the chest
Surrender is the kingdom
And the kingdom is the rest
Nexus
