Centers of Thought

I like meditation. It's not something I do for religious reasons; I just find it soothing. But sometimes, this breathing exercises "breathes" new life to thoughts we thought buried in our minds. This poem speaks of such a case.



I wasn't sure if I had written and/or posted a poem called "Fallout" earlier. I've tentatively named this one "Fallout II" as a consequence, but it could easily be a precursor title of what's to come in the text. Consequence must be spoken. Things that are unpleasant are too often left unsaid.