We are halfway through.
The middle of a contradictory year.

She has only just begun; she has taken her sweet time; she is over; she has flown.

Slow and quick, and not in turn - one after the other - but all at once.  A moment is a century is a second, and then it ends: the anticlimactic collapse of a monumental, undefinable thing.  

It fooled us again, didn't it?

An exhausting whirlwind.
A steady build-up.
A pause.

The thoughts in your head are too many to keep.  
A grasp to retain, a longing to release.  
This frantic, happy, despairing, hope.

You realize, as if by accident,
That something at the very core of you has been neglected. 



( hippies always welcome )