Jul 23, 2016
When the mind is impatient
It is insecure of its own potential
Addicted to the winding well of discontent
That seems full of resource
Never fully quenched
This matrix of matter
Yields only what a fleshy mass of muscle
Deems worthy
Of our emotional state.
Perception.
This reality is flimsy
It changes with the current
Through unpredictable, winding resvisions
It compels us
To keep moving
No matter how frantic
The mind must keep
Twisting,
Awaiting the grounding that
Must surely come?
-S.A, July 23, 2016
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