A quiet kind of lightening storm
will fire in wild moments of mass,
when thought chunks rush to the center —
the very center — of my mind.
It’s a ten ton pile up of thought
first packed, then crammed, together fiercely.
Just like the thunderless lightening,
no sound escapes that brain tempest.
Wow, may I share this on a poetry site of mine? (credit given fully, as always) 🙂
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Sure, reblogging is enabled. Thanks.
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Nice
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