The Oddest Whims of the Mind
Behold!
The blank page is vast
and ruinous
to the mind. Let me
fill it with thin, black letters.
Let me assemble them into words.
Let the words fall over
themselves to become
thoughts.
Hark!
There's a lark
in the tree
outside, waltzing
with the bees,
fluttering, flashing,
prancing
through the sky,
alive and living.
Lo!
The stars
are bright, though
I cannot see them
for the sun
is brighter. Perhaps
not brighter, per se,
but closer. Is everything close
so luminous? Or not close,
rather, but distant
and yet so giant
as to seem close
from this small
perspective. Perhaps
not perspective,
so to speak, but insanity
brought on
by the sight of wide blue
sky in which
no stars
can be seen.
Ahah!
Your eyes
are moving, following
the waterfall
of words
down the page, scanning
left to right, reading
is creating,
is living,
is time traveling
into
the future.
O! No!
I confess
I have come
from my mother's womb
and try not think about it, except
in the context
of poetry, where
such strange tidings
may be contemplated
at one's leisure.
Alack!
This life is too long!
This life is too short!
This life is too!
This life!
This!
Zounds!
This wind is windy
and my hair dances the way
hair always dances
when flirting with the wind, and
for a moment, I feel
light and lifted
by air, as my hair
whips in a tornado
of chaos.
Huzzah!
I inhale and exhale,
as you do,
and as you breathe,
I breathe.
Isn't it beautiful?
Isn't is a wonder?
This moment, here, now,
we, you, I
exist.
What a marvel!
What joy!
But soft!
Everything
must end,
conclusions hover
in the peripheral
of every
existence, and
here is
another one.
______________________
Note: This poem was inspired by_WhimsicalCat:, who offered the prompt: "The oddest whims of the mind at the oddest of times?" .
(Unfortunately _WhimsicalCat no longer seems to have an account. T_T )
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The Poetry Project
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