poem 01

7/7/2019 11:40 PM

spaces take the form of emotion

A navigation of the space begets the dipping of emotion

The space morphs into objects neatly packed into lines and constructs

The time slow-dances into five in the morning

"I" am weary, the same narrative I tell myself. A metacognition still futile in shifting my neuronal paradigm

A pattern. A synchronicity. A genetic expression of the universe in the arising of my emotions, a disbalance still in place

To rest within, to rest… in a pool