Thoughts scream for attention in the ‘rush hour’ of the brain, making the poet panic like an insect trapped under a glass. But his panic and anxiety are assuaged by the promise of freedom of thought.
Like a city infected with rush hour,
your mind teems with congested thoughts.
They linger in the background, grumbling,
threatening and shouting; suffocating sanity
as your eyes look towards greener
pastures where freedom lives loose.
You hold your breath and listen
to the living infection nestled in your brain.
Your day started out good, but like always
the pollution proved too much, pushing you off
into the world of suspense. Like an insect trapped
under the glass you panic and hope for
a chance to flee your trap and finally
be free, but it isn’t the city or the traffic
that sucks the air out of your breath
but the freedom of your thoughts at your side,
comforting you in your quiet moments.