Touch your forehead to the ground.
Lie yourself down on the impatient earth.
With arms outstretched, palms in prayer
above your aging ears, surrender—
all that is you. Flat on the land.
Nothing to uphold.
No hopes. No prospects.
Into the depths you fend off while standing tall.
Bowing with my brothers, fallen
on all sides like a field of split acorns.
Even the whale must roll its head
to yawning skies before plunging
deep again, down again, through
these infinite columns of refracting light.