Soaked in the endocrine, the goads and spurs of emotion,
All thoughts are unbidden, intrusive.
The inner voices only sound like yours.
Your mind is just world detail too.
I run to achieve stillness, a portable peace.
Spring morning, I line up dewdrop prisms;
Brilliant green in one eye, intense gestational red in the other.
What if authenticity is just existence, label-free, in the now?
What if you were always at your destination?
Twilight, and the greying woods are like stage scenery, still thick with birdsong.
And for a few seconds of clock time, I merge with an untagged world.
Now becomes Here,
Here becomes Always.