Literature & poetry



Distractions

We have the proclivity of getting so engrossed with anything that moves.
We have the proclivity of getting caught up with noises.
We have the proclivity of getting startled by pin-drop silence. 

Have we ever thought about what makes us sit still?
Have we ever thought about what flow through our minds?
Have we ever thought about what is what?

Thoughts are priceless. 
Thoughts are streams of water flowing in the meadows.
Thoughts are senseless wondering in the morning with a mug of whatever.  

We have got nothing to fear.
We are only frightened by our own imaginative shadows.

Shadows are incongruent.
Shadows are erratic gesture.

At any rate, I digress. 
Now what's that moth doing flying over and above that light bulb?

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