Thinking

“I think and think and think, I‘ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.” – Jonathan Safran Foer

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Starting small, a little fire, a gentlebeginning

Fuel consumed by circumstance

Flames are bright, I think to much.

Pull the sand, a gentle river, contained by nurture

Releasing it runs, events of chance

Rapids form rolling hills, I think to much

Words spoken, few arrows, swiftly flying away

Wounds bleed from peaceful intentions

Broken shafts are faults, I think to much

Drops floating, small crowds, in heated drafts gather

Billowed followings, a dark horizon

Deluge free falling fast, I think to much

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