Where does this thought come from?
I mean this very thought,
this terse verse rising from
utter emptiness.
Emptied into the mess
of messy words and images,
from mirages and memories,
from stories and dreams and
Memes and fragments that
occupy fully, then vanish
into timeless tombs.
And into wombs to be born
again, cogito.
Not ergo anything,
Just a thought without a thinker,
Just to tinker around the edges.
Edgy to know
that we are not our thoughts.
Dr. Bob's Blog 