Stalagmites and stalactites
In a limestone mind.
No movement, bar when
Worry comes spelunking
Through the cavern,
A luminous beast
Puffing on the good thoughts
And flicking butts into
The choked stream of consciousness.
Eons from now, the ceiling will
Sink under the weight of the sky
And light will play in the puddle.
But now?
Now, it’s too dark to see the cracks.

Bryson Thomas