If you discover an experience for which the mind relentlessly snaps back to the now, do it.
You are that experience. Any fissure between you and it will heal together - a decreasing entropy unseen in mountains. Crevasse. Cleft. Crevice. Scratch. Scar. Smoothness.
If your wild mind becomes ordered by the gravitational pull of the moment - a sinkhole of now formed of a vortex of sensory experience - pursue that thing.
This entry was posted in poem, Poetry and tagged poem, poetry by B Gourley. Bookmark the permalink.
