Pressing thought.

These pressing thoughts,
that linger overlong, in my head,
telling me to think, to listen,
to comprehend,
struggling to create a minutiae of something,
a cacophony of past joined to past,
impression joined to impression,
the insulated thoughts of we.

What is this life but something pondered?
Something given meaning, because you chose,
you work that thought, fold it, darn it,
like a needle strung on string,
you repair and re-create,
until meaning is so complete,
you know not what was original to the fabric,
and what was blessed at birth.

These pressing thoughts,
that linger, like a smile.
I finger my memories,
like a worry stone, or a mantra.
part and parcel of the same,
life being lived, infinity,
divinity, a pressing thought,
that has all the time in the world.

Published by B

I am B (call me BB and I will gut you) I like daisies, books, and men who understand the wisdom of Kermit the Frog. I refer to my favorite person as TMW5T Why? because if he had 6 I'd call him TMW6T, duh!!

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