Poetry

I am happy.

The sky is blue.
Except it’s not at all.
It only appears to be so;
a perception of filtered light
bounced off particles of dirt
and reflected in the atmosphere;
a reflection absorbed by our retina
transported by nerve impulses
gatewayed via the optic nerve
to that one spot in the brain
that will determine:
The sky is blue.

Except it’s not at all.
It only appears to be so;
Because the sky is clear.

I am happy.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————–

Thoughts of you

And when the calm and quiet of the night descends,
when I put the business of the day aside and give my mind
free reign to wander where it will, it goes right back to your door
and rests upon your face, and within me there is peace.

 

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