2017 : February

Yes: the scent, the flavor, life is real:
Even when we cannot recall the way we used to feel.
Yes: the taste, the texture, and the bite,
The life in what is living, and the warmth in what is light.

For food, like rhythm, finds us where we are:
Like flashlights when confronted by a star,
The contrast’s sharp; we quickly, then, arrive
At knowing what it is to be alive.

Yes: the moments make up all there is,
With open eyes, in full mydriasis,
We take in yes the moment and the day;
The instant we would grasp
That slips

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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