Today I invested some time.
In,
The space between the spaces.
Pushing through gaps thinner than the thinnest air.
A particle here,
A particle there.
Out,
Of my mind.
Pushing through occasional dross.
Brushing against the eternal tune.
I heard of pictures of scouse goddesses.
Cripples and rejects seeking personal affirmation in a moment of celebrity.
No pulse of infinity in the wheelchair bound mermaid.
All luxurious hair and plate scales.
Pushing through occasional dross!
I noticed that the tap of foot contradicts the rhythm of speech and song,
And if I were not so obviously exposed to genius would diagnose,
With Laban technique,
Schizophrenia.
There’s something in the tapping.
Brushing against the eternal.
Dissonance.
Close to a strand of the rope of truth.
Chaos theory.
It slips.
I move on.