‘Think’ is an extensive vacation
away from the quantum of being.
Experience is a deterrent method of that journey.
It would seem
that I have been traveling so long
that I have the mind of a nomad.
Every place that I meet up with someone else,
we are in a place like an airport,
a bus depot or a train station.
We have an agreed upon convention
of locality in a here to there way.
Nobody is home, well, few are at home
and everyone else is on their way
to going home.
If per chance, I have memories of home,
they are faint and subject to recall,
ever so fleeting as it is.
If I possibly meet somebody
who reminds me of home,
we are hard pressed
to have a shared exchange about it.
Only in our stillness can we embrace
as the ambience from then brought forward.
And if we do,
often my experience wants to steal me away
from that presence of right then.
Memories are a method
of crossing my mental-postcards,
with wet ink but of course, hand cramped,
never to be fully written
or actually sent to anyone.
Its seems that this journey I am on
requires little or no accessories
and often I find myself
to be excess of baggage myself
unto my being along the way.
When I am home, as an epiphany,
I realize there is no questioning to quantum.
There is no spacial consideration
or timely manner.
Oneness then consumes me
beyond the awareness of any effect.