Thoughts

Like a bee, which you might only hear, zips by
quick, ZAP, "gone honey"
and all that's left are dashes
that float in space, several
ashes of something that was great, beautiful
ephemeral and smaller as distance ages
And we make them into squares
because we like squares
not circles

And the yellow flashes, day
and the black brushes, night
its complexity forgotten
Like the pollen from the lily at the garden,
ricocheting between the hairs
tethered to the body, which is soft to the touch
gentle and full of complexity and life,
is forgotten

Because of our fear of the prick, the opinion
Our hesitation to do something which could be great
Because of the embarrassment, the sting
of disapproval, because
they like squares and not circles
so we like squares
and not circles

We know the impulse is good and bold, those thoughts
it's natures expression and it clashes with our rationality
But they'll leave when
you're too afraid to catch them
like bees, ZAP, gone
until you're left with dashes
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Author's Note

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