Moment
We pause for a moment,
stifling sound,
tuned to our cycling and
recycling blood,
meshed,
lead-heavy,
drinking breath,
impossibly boundless and still.
Each pulse comes flooding.
We’ve passed here before;
once I heard music,
once there was rain,
once we found shelter,
once we had time.
The seconds are spilling
unbearable sweetness;
moving’s unthinkable,
waiting is pain.
Lost in a minute,
matter and mind
we are moved again.
by K. Cohen
:: 
:: 
:: 
:: 
:: 
:: 
:: 
:: 
:: 
:: 
Categories: Making Sense
I love this poem. Such natural rhythm, creating such sweet sadness. Beautiful work, thank you.