When the feet move,

At the slowest version of the brain speed,

It’s physics,

In motion across space,

Time,

And the floor.

The thoughts rattle around,

And the feet—

Attached to a thinking man,

Take across that same ground.

Back and forth,

The mind might sway.

Not even necessarily coming up with a conclusion—

Anyway.

The body simply mimics,

What’s happening inside.

A thought so powerful given a dramatic free ride.

A rut might form in the floor soon enough,

If the feet get shuffling,

The ideas repeatedly shined and buffed.

And out pops,

A powerful,

Thought.

Stress is pressure.

Movement is force.

And out from this whole thing,

Might be diamonds.

–

Special thanks to: Melissa Potter

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