Sunday Poem: Motion
Things are clear yet hazy.
The marks of dry pimples on your face,
The zebra glass frames under your trimmed eyebrows,
The lines of the smile on your moped lips.
All that was in the past.
It’s crowded yet desert
It’s sound yet silence
It’s a caravan, yet a lone adventure
It’s what it is.
Motion blurs memory
It makes the past extraneous,
The present worthwhile, and
The future inconceivably exquisite.
Motion stimulates nerves,
It helps overcome loss, failure and regrets, but
It also induces amnesia,
Steady and selective.