poem - sentient
Gray matter - the neural canvas;
a great plain extending infinitely when
a spark, suddenly
a lightning rod sears -
a thought bursts to life;
the storm rolls in as
thunder claps and synapses dance
in fields upon the horizon, filling the skies.
Thoughts without words -
intuition - feelings - senses.
Lightly sprinkling, gaining
momentum into a downpour
with a rush, cleansing the mind,
saturating this sentient.
~ mb, July 2017