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.

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