I just read a poem. A beautiful poem
that makes no sense, yet it does.
The kind that bypasses your brain,
goes straight to the solar plexus.
I want to make poetry like that,
get my feet off the ground,
sail into the ether, where there is no up nor down.
But I seem to be cursed with too much reason.
My cerebral cortex is too thick to
let the stuff of dreams leak through,
my grip on reality too tight.
I think it’s because I hear the
clock ticking my life away.
That’s why I like my feet on
the ground, my Tupperware in order,
my bed made.
I want to fly into space
without leaving earth.
A Favorite QuoteLife is really simple but we insist on making it complicated. ~ Confucius