The mind is so mystical.
It’s the basis
of experience, memory, contemplation and imagination…
Music stopped playing
and yet, as Percy Shelley wrote, it “vibrates in the memory.”
Trippy, like how that Shelley line just transpires in my consciousness,
as if my mind simply emitted it,
I could feel
my wife’s kiss and see her hot pink lipstick,
smell and taste the apple cinnamon lip gloss…
I try not to hate the trippiness of it and how
Behaviorist, deterministic, and dissociated
I feel whenever I think
about “the mind.”
I know, so many adjectives and abstractions.
I really do sometimes feel trapped
in the abstract—The black holes of nearly pure abstraction.
Ironically concrete phrasing, wouldn’t you say? Gotta love that irony!
So, I seek to concretize my way out of these black holes of abstraction.
But sometimes for me
just can’t seem to permeate my mind
even when I find some tangible thing interesting;
it’s like I just can’t bring myself to focus
on concretes. It’s like I’m blind
I know to “stop and smell
the roses” and appreciate
the visual beauty
which the mysterious creativity
of the universe composes…
So…let me experiment, what
within my sight strikes me
as the most interesting thing to write about?
(especially the stars at night!)
…(as I laugh
at how the abstract,
Finds its way back
into my thoughts…)