Hard to say
where it begins.
A snowflake,
a step,
a voice...
too soft,
too small
for most
to notice.
One memory
cascades gently into
another, tumbling visions,
recherches du temps passe.
Gaining mass and momentum,
they still look beautiful and innocuous
from a distance, until you observe the trees
and boulders swept up into the blinding current
and it's upon you
and it fills your eyes your lungs
with suffocating whiteness
tossed about head over elbow
muffled tears on the desk
and if you're lucky
when the onslaught stops
you can dig out an air pocket
take a breath
burrow to the surface
and go on with your day.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 1:23 PM UTC
Hard to say
where it begins.
A snowflake,
a step,
a voice...
too soft,
too small
for most
to notice.
One memory
cascades gently into
another, tumbling visions,
recherches du temps passe.
Gaining mass and momentum,
they still look beautiful and innocuous
from a distance, until you observe the trees
and boulders swept up into the blinding current
and it's upon you
and it fills your eyes your lungs
with suffocating whiteness
tossed about head over elbow
muffled tears on the desk
and if you're lucky
when the onslaught stops
you can dig out an air pocket
take a breath
burrow to the surface
and go on with your day.
I got a glimpse today, oh boy....
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