Much less record them on paper
When every sound passing through my ear
Screams, “Look over here!” as it enters my mind?
And every sight my eyes behold
Appears as a cue card commencing a full inventory of short and long-term memories?
Every memory, whether obscure or vivid,
Generates an onslaught of “what if” scenarios and correlating course of action.
Each stimulus to my senses
Begets multitudes of thought processes,
Each in turn evoking a myriad of emotions,
All of which is unfolding innumerable times this very instant,
Simultaneously and without a foreseeable means to be confined within an individual’s capacity to maintain sanity!
How, then, can I organize my thoughts into words,
Much less record them on paper,
With all of this happening at the speed of life?
There is no hope of doing it on my own
And I know of no man nor woman,
Machine nor computer,
Process nor chance
Which could enable me to bear it.
How, you ask, have I managed to write poems such as this?
Despite everything and everyone incessantly changing,
It is my desire, my will, and my discipline
To live my days and sort my thoughts
In the presence of the Unchanging One;
A thousand years in His sight is but a day that has just gone by.