I thought of thinking about things worth thinking of and found myself rethinking pathways, moving pieces of melodramatic songs, remains of half unprocessed bits of thought. It came to me -still in those thoughts- that no outcome was closing in. The circumvented flow of cogitation, the bit of mind I was by now so endeared to would not allow me brooding past a certain point. The full set of ramifications got too large. And even when I reached the shinny spots where some resolving speculation now came through, the thought itself would draw right in moot lulls of further thought. Still, I sensed that further reasoning, planned, numbered and arraigned would in the length of several scripts bring culmination, valued thoughts, jewels that would entice, polish, resolve the thinking line, the paged concatenation of all musing and of thought. But found, exhausted by the deeper darkness of it all that thinking of, about, before or after won't recall, bring up once more the music in my life, return me to that lighter soul I sought or bring about a resolution to the baulks that, seemingly, have made it all so wrong. No thinking carries consequence past your bedpost. Thought will not travel anywhere with you. Thoughts will not help decision making, acts. They have to be rethought once and again, brought back to bear the weight of fact. Thoughts will reduce, make you withdraw, attempt a forced refusal of next steps, replace the pieces you thought wrong in the wee puzzle you once thought was home where you'd fend off the thoughtless battles of a soul that would perhaps, instead, sing songs.
Me encanta. Es muy bueno.
Gracias!!