The clean clear line you have drawn between points begins to disappear-reappear in the rhythm of distance-time distance-time distance-time distance-time the spaces between boxcars, a linear code missing its dots half its words. Spaces stretch interpretation suffers. There is a tipping point where suffers becomes loss or a new interpretation on the other side of the point.
Liberty of Thinking said:
This is so high, I must beg you to be allowed to hang a bit more on your left leg still available through the clouds, even though I have a sneaking suspicion of being a deeper thought stirred by a rather simple view of something…
Otherwise loved it:-)
Rom (your mortal follower:-)
Ronald E. Shields said:
Rom, I believe you are right about the simple view…it may be as simple as a loss offering an opportunity, opening a door, presenting one with new options..
This poem was sparked by my thoughts on “Silence of the lamps…” and especially your answer to Katrina regarding the choice we must decide to make. Does one choose to let an ending be final or a reason to reinterpret?…so now it is I who follow you 😉