Musings of a Compulsive Thinker

Zen for geeks

I used to write a lot of poetry. This was something I scribbled on paper a couple of years ago. I came across it the other day, and just reading it left me with a pleasantly relaxed mindset.

It's untitled, but I like to think of it as a kind of poetical zen (for geeks, and other people who think too much).


I could spend hours
right here,
lying among the flowers,
breathing in the air:
sheer, sunlit atmosphere.
Breathe deep --
the flowers love to share --
and worries lose hold
on the edge of sleep,
as if this fresh earth smell,
both new and old,
is some chemical debonder
of stress;
it soothes as it wanders,
permeating
and percolating
with feather-light caress,
until every care
diffuses through the shell
of my skin, to the air,
to be lost, finally,
inconsequently.
If I wait
a long, long time, maybe
it will permeate
all of me;
and I just might
sublimate
and float away,
my very DNA
taking flight
to come apart
sequentially,
the tiny atoms of my heart
mingling with the atmosphere
to be Breathed,
essentially,
through the very lungs of Earth,
my double-helix unwreathed
in a kind of rebirth;
and fade to black,
from whence I came,
lacking form to hold my name --
carbon to oxygen and back.

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Labels: imagine yourself here, literature, philosophy, ponderings

posted by the alygator @ 3:33 PM