In the head, it's crowded,
Tangled,
Mental yarn not -- not yet -- set free from itself.
Thoughts have weight. The mind,
Out of shape,
Strains to lift them, move them, refine
-- freshen
-- convey them.
It's work.
It should feel less like work.
Easier to think lighter thoughts. Easier to re-think the lighter thoughts, re-run them.
You convince yourself: it's like a treadmill. They do help. Eventually.
Usually.
But the landscape around it doesn't change.
Unless fog rolls in --
It's less clear, now.
Is clearer near?
- Christopher Walsh, written 7-8 May 2014
© Christopher Walsh, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Christopher Walsh (chris_walsh) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.