Sometimes the past parades itself
before the sun makes its appearance
in the tiny shrinking shadows of dawn
when the world is not yet awake.
In these times, the memories flood my mind
and overwhelm my sense of self.
Sometimes a thing explains itself:
each of us is somewhat self-contained,
our sense of purpose lost in pointless lyrics,
we seek out more than mere melody.
In these times, the songs we learn to sing
can be enough to get by.
Sometimes a thought makes itself known,
peeking its cautious nose around the corner
looking to root out a treat from your clenched hand
like a puppy after its first yoga stretch.
In these times, the words we speak
are relatively unimportant.
Sometimes a great notion comes into being.
It’s usually the least recognizable thing in the room.
What can you do with it now?
20 NOV 2025
© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
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