Saturday, December 8, 2012

Gravity of Thought

The steam of thought
Rises
Distills
As a dewdrop
A tear.

The cream of thought
Rises
In stillness
To make butter for bread
And ice cream.

The smoke of thought
Rises
Ceremonial
A smudging
In sweet odors.

All thoughts are funny
Like carbonated bubbles
Rising then
Popping.
Where do they all go?

Where do they all rise from?