internal architecture

I think sometimes
that we're building streams
digging up land
felling trees

we see the same turns
illuminating themselves atypically
and it just makes sense

I remember as a child
seeing paintings of waterwheels
red barn cedar mills
framing the constant movement
of spaces and colors

I like to think that they cross somewhere, these streams
pouring down intimate chasms
dancing about chambers known to no thing
but our breath and the passing air