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#perspicacity
the speedometer that measures the acceleration and deceleration of time in our lives journey is remarkably similar to the one we employ in our vehicles intra moment we can move from slowness to rapidity in minuscule amounts of seconds, all the while, those few bursts of being high, are parcel of a longer cross country trip that could be calculated in years, decades, even life-spans though we lack the visual imprimatur upon our eyes of our exact speed most times, we always have in our possess a notional beginning and ending we take a trip to grocery store, up/down to NYC, fly to Paris just because, and return home to bury and burn loved ones, witnesses and fellow travelers to the longer segments of our irregularly configured continuum here, you sigh, why, do you trouble us with this obvious observation when we have so much to do, so many roles to don, and the kids need milk for cereal, which is a thirty minute round trip that should have not been necessary had we “organized our moments of movement far better organized!* perspicacity. this word has been mindful for me for a days, while bits and bobs, of a poem’s composition blurted up and out, in   some disarray, while the mind, tries to collect them all, all for one, for later collation and an unknown destination the wisdom to see down the road. to plan accordingly, when we can oft not see around the next corner, or even the next single steps we “plan” to take, made without any thought thereof is there a poem in here, somewhere, Oh Sinner-man? perhaps…or, just an indifferent end?
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Aug 10, 2024
Aug 10, 2024 at 5:02 PM UTC
lmnsinner
time does not fly, but slowly laps and waves eroding our myths and ourselves upon a continuum with indifferent ends
the speedometer that measures the acceleration and deceleration of time in our lives journey is remarkably similar to the one we employ in our vehicles intra moment we can move from slowness to rapidity in minuscule amounts of seconds, all the while, those few bursts of being high, are parcel of a longer cross country trip that could be calculated in years, decades, even life-spans though we lack the visual imprimatur upon our eyes of our exact speed most times, we always have in our possess a notional beginning and ending we take a trip to grocery store, up/down to NYC, fly to Paris just because, and return home to bury and burn loved ones, witnesses and fellow travelers to the longer segments of our irregularly configured continuum here, you sigh, why, do you trouble us with this obvious observation when we have so much to do, so many roles to don, and the kids need milk for cereal, which is a thirty minute round trip that should have not been necessary had we “organized our moments of movement far better organized!* perspicacity. this word has been mindful for me for a days, while bits and bobs, of a poem’s composition blurted up and out, in   some disarray, while the mind, tries to collect them all, all for one, for later collation and an unknown destination the wisdom to see down the road. to plan accordingly, when we can oft not see around the next corner, or even the next single steps we “plan” to take, made without any thought thereof is there a poem in here, somewhere, Oh Sinner-man? perhaps…or, just an indifferent end?
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A speeding car, a blinding light, It took my breath away. The world dissolved in darkest night, Then dawned a brand new day. I walked the edge, unseen, unknown, My life hung by a thread. I should have cried, I should have moaned, But felt no dread instead. The fear was gone, the worries ceased, My mind was clear and bright. A strange and unexpected peace Replaced the fading light. Now every moment I embrace, With purpose strong and true. That brush with death, in time and space, Gave me a clearer view.
0
Dec 29, 2025
Dec 29, 2025 at 10:00 PM UTC
casey-thomas-mcclain
Brush With Death
A speeding car, a blinding light, It took my breath away. The world dissolved in darkest night, Then dawned a brand new day. I walked the edge, unseen, unknown, My life hung by a thread. I should have cried, I should have moaned, But felt no dread instead. The fear was gone, the worries ceased, My mind was clear and bright. A strange and unexpected peace Replaced the fading light. Now every moment I embrace, With purpose strong and true. That brush with death, in time and space, Gave me a clearer view.
Continue reading...
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