Blunt stones
and shattered glass of anxiety
That grind and
crack will
And lacerate comforting plush of calm
Disembowel.
That brisk wind
of rolling thoughts
That seamlessly
translates into words
Soothing,
smiles—
Emit word,
laughter!—
Torn, confused,
made introspect
With thoughts
racing, breaking
Oh youdon’t thinkIdidn’t
mean
Clashmisunderstand
heat willshehe notheydont
Understand!
Dedalus
epiphanied in confession box.
Perhaps if I
realize that life flows, progresses;
Admit to myself
that the past has just happened,
I can smile at
any halts or recesses
And see conversation’s
wonder:
When an idea
comes to mind
And you say and
I say
And thoughts
connect and words roll
In a constant,
present, unceasing flow.
I do not know confession box,
But when
turbulent in mind
I like to walk
to the source
Where the
spring gurgles upwards
And present is present and the past has flown
past.
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