Some days I have the mind

Of a flat earther.

Some days my mind,

Scrabbles over the skeletal remains

Of thought.

It rummages in the valleys

Of the now,

Forgetting Mountains of

Past lessons.

I don't stare at the horizon

And ask myself

"Why can't I stare on forever?"

Atrophying a little

In my own sauce,

Stewing blissfully,

In my own primordial ignorance.