Thought is finding its shape,
Becoming stronger,
And word by word,
Layer upon layer,
Self-erasing,
Taking form.
The mind is a collage
Creating itself from cut-up scraps;
It is a sculpture built by a flowing
Fountain of sand,
Both constantly being eroded
And being formed
And grown by the erosion,
The sculpting fingers of erosion,
The sculpted shadows of forgetfulness.
Grains of memory
Beneath the fingernails,
They fall, they forget;
One remains.
Written on January 6th, 2022.
This is a photopoetry collaboration with poet Paul Rowland (www.jonathanpicklesthecity.com).
— Copyright © M. Solav —
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