A Series of Moments
Quietude serves silence of mind
location of consciousness unknowable
time and space the containment
going somewhere, anywhere
it’s a bird, it’s a plane
it’s make believe only,
I don’t realize any of it
projections of stuff made up
how do I remember the solution
when I have woven the story
into my bosom of a thousand years?
Copyright © Cynthia Cross | Year Posted 2019
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