All at once.
Chitter chatter
Jabber.
Pointless banter.
Back and forth
Words pour out from lips,
Hang in the air
and resonate a bit.
Then fade away
become forgotten.
But for some they stay.
Shaping, molding
Minds are holding
On.
To the two dimensional
Too much, Too soon.
Two words are seeds
and assumptions root.
Grows the confusion,
Constructed reality
Confused consciousness of
this time, moment, universe.
I cannot write this poem here.
The future
Is now
Is past.
So when?
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 11:10 AM UTC
All at once.
Chitter chatter
Jabber.
Pointless banter.
Back and forth
Words pour out from lips,
Hang in the air
and resonate a bit.
Then fade away
become forgotten.
But for some they stay.
Shaping, molding
Minds are holding
On.
To the two dimensional
Too much, Too soon.
Two words are seeds
and assumptions root.
Grows the confusion,
Constructed reality
Confused consciousness of
this time, moment, universe.
I cannot write this poem here.
The future
Is now
Is past.
So when?
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