London Poem: Day 30

16 September

What boils over slowly
Allows damage to never appear until,
It’s too late.
Anxious hearts move without motion–
Bouncing surely to unheard melodies
As that heat inches upward.
But the transparent sounds preserve
Time and keep the mind preoccupied
As water begins to drip
Methodically in unvaried patterns.
What damage is building!
But eyes, as part of the mind,
Go blind and as it all builds, together.
It just continues as the rhythm conceals
What is truly important.

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In flux

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