by Craig Shay
There is a kind of hemorrhagingwhich happens to a mind in deep contemplation.There is that gasping for air desperation,while in the middle of an aneurism.There is abandonment of logic and hastily made decisions,which will later trouble the soul.There is rapture, shaking apartthe sturdy foundations, where thinkersare known to dwell upon. I see these figureseverywhere, they are ridingunbridled horses wielding paper swords. I see a woman alone in a parked car on her phone. A couple in the silent pause of an argument.An elderly man gazing with terror at the boats in the park. A shadow sitting on an empty dock at nightfall.A cook is smoking a cigarettebehind the restaurant. He is staring intovast mountain ranges of the mindquaking and crumblingslowly giving birth to calmbefore he flicks his smoke.All of them, appearing so human. While digging throughthe psyche for that throbbingmorsel of courage.