Yesterday was a long day of creative work, all of which I enjoyed, on several different projects, in several different roles and now the sockets of my brain have burnt out. This poem may be backward or inside out, I am not sure how to rest the little mind and hear things afresh. I will go swimming and stop writing and thinking even though I want to continue working on ideas and plans and schemes and plots. The part of the body I focus on becomes a complete meglomaniac unable to share time and yet and yet all signs point to a day off from the mind, immediately, beginning after I post this poem.
This short poem is about purpose in a life, in particular, in the life of a flowering branch fallen from a tree.
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