Thoughts take me out,
out of my body, out of now.
Molars grind.
I am grinding out a problem
to occupy this mind.
I am this grind.
It is a demanding sport, this getting lost in thought.
This figuring out of a future
that is a replay of a bad season
in which all was loss,
all was lost.
I open my aching jaw
and shift my attention to the spring day,
to pink and white flowers adorning trees
along the swollen brown river,
Finally I finally hear their call to notice them.
They have no problems, the river blossoms,
only a few short days to happily offer their beauty to this world.
I breathe again, my mind now at rest in a body
that breathes again
happy to be returned to life and its world.
I am here.
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