Friday, April 27, 2018

Our Minds Are Surface Vortices of Debris

When we feel good, we feel wise.
When we feel bad, we despair.
So much for wisdom.
So much for despair.

Scurf on the waves,
We would love to believe
We brought ourselves here.
But the trash and exotic flowers
Alike that we carry, that compose us,
Float here from somewhere else
And rise up from under us.

The elsewhere and the other
That is us and is great within us
Is not disposed to believe us.

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