The deep throb of silence filters the thoughts
that rise to the surface, like delicate air bubbles
bursting and boiling in spherical silvery orbs
of sustained thought.

At first, the fear of being alone overtakes
the humdrum of daily life
all too soon, the silence invades the clutter
of the noise and the heart beats
like a butterfly, as the mind descends
deep inside into cavernous labyrinths
seeking those little nagging thoughts
that elevate stress platforms of impatience.

There is a serene solitude
and all of life flashes before me
in hyperstring  neural networks of memories
which bubble to the surface
of unconscious thought
and dissipate into nothingness.

I am alone.

Author Notes

Contemplation-6. Another key.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago