Thoughts blur one into the other, like vibrant inks on wet paper, enticing my imagination to drift aimlessly, grasping at phantoms, and I am at a loss as to how they may be captured in words. Undefined, these hover on the outskirts of my awareness, misty, mocking my underlying need to communicate. How do I prove to myself I am not the only inhabitant in this eerie world of Not-Quite-Here, on days like today, when my thoughts take on the jumbled aspect of coloured pieces in a kaleidoscope, but refuse to coalesce into coherent shapes, or patterns?
Life In Motion
Teeth engaged, cogs circle in disdain.
Not in smooth running, round-wheeled ways
but spasmodic clicks, with tricks to trip
the shape-shifting focus in a mind
searching for the calm centre of Now.
Binding past and future, pendulum thoughts
swing in Time's cradle, but do not
be lulled by their rhythm. Life's jagged edges
await to jolt the complacent dreamer
and catapult them into the present tense.
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