Emptying one's mind ...

(A feat not quite so kind)

For vibrations infuse them

Making us choose .. then



To work with what we have

Instead of turning a new path

For our minds are a collective

Of all things past, with perspective



Produced from all of the pieces

Which've gone into stew's creases

Along with the carefully done folds

Absorbed so well in, as we get old 



To the point where emptying is a feat

And trying it - will skip just a few beats ...

 

- Tristram



(c) Christopher W. Thomas

4:10am Sunday, Sept. 27th, 1998