Driving Will – a poem

***

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Trained to trap, to snatch:

What lightning can be saved?

From the dendrite blooming

Consciousness streams,

Bottled in what lies closest

To the brain banks,

Frothing, crackling, synapse-like,

A life’s work and effort, the risk

Of madness taken each day, every

Moment, to dive into that primordial place,

Just for a singular chance,

Success the least concerning bit

In the back of the mind.

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