I like to try practicing
mindfulness. You know
what it ends up always
being?
The flood of the senses
The flood of the senses
The mind is just gone,
far as thoughts concern.
My thoughts cannot even form
a shape
upon all the shades and the shapes
coming through, from moment
to instant, the breeze
and the skin it wafts upon,
the sky
and the trees coming crashing
down
and in,
and up through the grass, on my poor bare feet
in the rich, deep
earth.
And the scent of all that exhales,
and the sound
of everything. So quiet,
it hurts.
I get too distracted
to be mindful. And it goes on, I don't
know how long, now.
I forget
to wish, for a pinch or a slap
to prove I'm awake, for this.
Okay! Somehow, I have failed
mindfulness again. Now,
time for a nap.
1 comment:
Looks like I left taste out of my flood of the senses. This was written unmindfully, it seems. If it helps, picture me eating a hot dog out there!
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