Fossil Mind

The dry tree in the hills felled by the summer storm, gushing current of the river moves it in turbulent torrent, the de-skinned trunk shifts to the edge of the tilted levee, sticks to the cleft of rugged boulders covered with mud. When flood comes its surge sweeps the loose soil of slope, the log glides in delight, begins new journey once more. To the remote terminus the river sets its course to drift, dislodged, it doesn’t remember long the things left behind. My life uprooted in the storm of the tumultuous times, drifting like the log finds no supporting ledge to cling to, seeks the new course for the ending yet unknown to explore, un-possessed, I don’t know the obscure concept of bonding. I slide on freedom on the tide of time to the forlorn shore, where finding my brief mooring I hold on for little while. To people out there I turn gypsy, the slinking lone driftwood, unbound, I live free for my fossil mind lost the memory. September 12, 2020