Never a quiet mind,
but not always chaotic.
Sometimes single streams
of consciousness, playing
out on paper, or perhaps
on screen (is paper that passe?)
Different from years past,
when thoughts were impossible
to pin down; evasive, always.
Today’s thoughts are feathers
rather than fists.
Being is a possibility.
Just being.
Never a quiet mind,
but often a quiet heart.
Beating less stoically
and more joyfully.
Pumping life quietly,
quickly. Enabling thoughts
to slide, to slip sleekly
between synapses.
Still sometimes I falter,
looking behind, waiting
for another shoe to drop.
Waiting for the chaos
to coagulate and clog the
shining streams.
It’s easier today, to touch
stones tenderly, remembering
my joyful heart & how she continues
to keep me going, constantly.

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