Independent Systems

By Al Konda

The room remained, yet each path held its own,

No line aligned with where another ran;

Each course proceeded as if set alone,

And moved within a separate, measured span.

 

Each path continued forward, set in place,

Unfolding strictly by a fixed design,

Advancing through the stillness in its line,

And tracing distance along its own line.

 

No change appeared to alter what was set,

No sign arose to mark a shift in course;

The space remained, and did not intersect,

And held each line within its proper force.

 

Each system moved, complete within its stride,

Self-drawn, self-held, and wholly self-applied.

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When nothing depends on anything else

There are moments when everything continues—

without reference.

Each path holds.

Each line moves.

Not apart.

Not together.

But entirely within itself.

Nothing reaches outward.

Nothing returns.

Nothing requires alignment.

The structure remains—

but no longer as something shared.

Each system proceeds according to its own rule.

Each motion follows its own course.

And within that condition, there is no tension.

No distance.

No comparison.

Only continuation—

complete,

self-contained,

and sufficient.

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© Al Konda · The Poetry Elite