Tributaries of Consciousness
I wish I could press
my sore thumbs upon those temples
close your eyes and look inside
I want to feel
The good and the bad
The pretty and the ugly and
the absolutely beautiful
The feeling of tennis balls pelting you balking at
gross pictures in National Geographic watching
each other scrunch up and contort our faces
Not really to feel refreshed like we'd pretend,
but to see who looks more stupid
I want to feel
Like the cool kid who taught
the proper boy to loosen up
to fly on those lightning feet to
outrun our vain super soaker streams
To ride a bike with no hands
to read every page
graced by those fingertips
glean every beautiful pearl of wisdom
shaped by the sediments in those depths
twirl a pencil between those fingers
just like you do when we ponder
over every thought ever brewed in that electric mind
feel every beat skipped by that reverberating heart
read all the words that were erased from hidden
letters deemed needless but for last minute hesitation
to explore the depths from whence and where
Those secret thoughts were borne...
Those furtive eyes caught their age
Those words like ripples in a voice of clear stream
...came forth. Were I to see it all in one glance of the inner eye
the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful
perhaps I would hurt.
But don't you know this beauty
is only accentuated by blemish?
'tis beauty that runs deeper
than anything the eye can see
And sweetness that is tasted
through more than words
So enduring it thrives effortlessly
Even in memory
I wish you would keep
Your thumbs upon these temples
Open your eyes and see... -From Fahim Zaman's Memory Well
Concocted in eternity and revised around Strauss Hall,
Harvard Yard, April 28th, 2008
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