Your ever-growing grid
Has an off-switch.
Once flicked
The wilderness beckons,
Its call comes within
And has relentless substance.

You find yourself
Out there
Somewhere,
Sooner or later coming across
A pivotal moment
Where the most real hum
Tones inside you.

The gleam of stars behind everything,
And colours like fire that burns forever, all tasted.

Every leaf
Every feather
Is part of the weave of
The fabric of everything,
A tingling brilliance that is beyond
Language and information.

And this magic is not shareable,
It is not likeable.
But that is not important,
Nor is being right.