To
calibrate the bauble of a thought –
detect
dimensions
in
its shimmering translucence –
its
imperfect sphere –
to
celebrate that thinking comes at all –
that
something
like
illumination could appear –
this
is what you’ve done
a
thousand times today –
it
is the price of knowing you
are
here. Today you thought
you
wanted edgy sex –
something
to awaken fear –
something
to arouse the animal –
the
unpredictable, the dangerous –
the
range of ominous
complicities
your psyche always
is
prepared to entertain –
but
now your hot hormonal rain
has
stopped – the frigid
rain
outside has, too –
and
all returns to fostering
the
sanguine view. Something new
will
happen soon to you:
heard,
and caught, as if it were
a
bird, or ringing of a bell.
You
calibrate the bauble
of that thought as well..
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