“But, What About…?”
Large swirling strokes empty the vigor from an eager elbow
Transmitting ideas forward to a fluid wrist and firm hand
Ideas that were born of a brain sifting sensory tides
Alive in the ocean of being
Flopping about while trying to tread for existence
Shapes become words to be seen or heard
Digested by othered others
So they can taste the pain of surviving
Spitting out or stilled around the cavern of speech silent
The sudden recognition of an unfamiliar object or particle within a familiar comfort
It can be jarring…
And recovery, doubtful
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