By Louis Comitz
Standing in this everlasting field of consciousness,
My memories clenched tight in one hand,
My future in the other.
The sea of dandelions surrounding me sway
They sense the secrets that slip out of my grasp.
We whisper our secrets to the dying flowers
Seeds exploding into words, scattered and carried by the wind
Never to become whole.
The flowers whisper their secret song to the wind
Asking it to comply
Begging the wind to let it live on.
The dandelions are dying
And so, in turn,
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sahana sureshFeb 2, 2022
second and third verse,
was unintentionally read/visualized as ” ‘memories’ in the shape of an organ fresh and snatched out of the body, self-contracting like a heart or fish puckering up. ‘on one hand, while on the other’, that phrase was read as we do ‘right/left-hand-side’ in math, or as in that common usage when thinking about ‘converse perspectives’ . ”
finally, that peculiar line of thinking, came as an oddity that struck so sensible to my mushy mind. i didn’t read it as memories/future as baggage carried around. rather : as organic muscles which clenched in tension while they stood opposite to each other.
thus, thank you that!
NyratOcnarFiD310748Aug 8, 2021
This is so good!! You are a very talented writer 🙂
AmezrouJun 6, 2021
This is so nice, I’ll never look at dandelions the same way 🙂