22 May 2022

By Philip Kuepper

However he went about
disciplining himself
to focus on his studies,
he saw the book open before him
a racing shell, his mind,
trying to concentrate, oars,
that saw the text a river
he was rowing.
The race was a week away.
Exams followed fast on it.
The season was exploding
into life around him,
just beyond the window he faced.
All was merging at warp speed
there could only be at some point
collision!:
His studies, the race, the season,
a birth as radical as death,
a Big Bang that out of the resultant
chaos came order.
He closed the book,
and slept
on the truth of this.

(16 May 2022)