V. Coherence

V. Coherence

Coherence is not the same

as meaning.

A thing can flow beautifully

and still remain empty.

Like hotel lobby music.

Like a politician smiling

through rehearsed concern.

The machine is very good

at sounding complete.

That is why attention matters more now.

You have to stay with the sentence

long enough to ask:

what is this connected to?

Experience?

Risk?

Actual noticing?

Or only pattern

arranged skillfully enough

to resemble depth?

Meaning requires contact.

Something resisting abstraction.

A real memory.

A body in a chair at 3 a.m.

Rainwater entering through cracked plaster.

Without that grounding,

language drifts upward

like a balloon cut loose—

graceful,

weightless,

Gone.