Airholes, I Have None

The ease of coffee

Photo by Tom Barrett on Unsplash

For a moment, lost in the taste of a thousand blackened stars.

My mind is too loud for a lasting moment of serene

The constant of absorbing, analyzing, and calculating —

Adding and subtracting.

How does one

[Within the one itself]

Escape the fate that is analytical distraction?

I’ll let you know.

For now,

I’m simply content to have made it out of the house.

But which,

If I must,

Door shall I choose

To leave the home that is intellectual?

It’s too dark in here to see any option clearly.

Clearly, as if surrounded by millions of blackened stars.

Perhaps we’re merely enclosed within a grand box

And the scattered lights that show themselves to us at night are that of airholes

Leading to a greater world.