Twelve Fold Chain

At last it started in the middle

Beginning as it all begins
It forsook the source of things

And that which flowed over
That which stayed
And made the choice to form a standing wave

Leaning out against the in
Unfolding in a place to call its own

And it gently draped six senses over
This house of cards that it built
And opened ground to the roots of touch
And let them in

Incredible sensations

It was the insatiable feeling
Of a feeling of insatiable desire

And all that it could do was hold tight
To that that it was not

It told itself it needed names
And in so doing it became

This is the birth
That everyone is always talking about
The one assumed but not remembered

But death does not forget
The end will remind it to cure it of itself