I think in words and I think in colors;
In movements, and motions, and revolutions.
I think in action-- not a moment before or after-- but in the moment and in the crash.
I think in smells and feels-- in dance and song and sight-- in freedom and in captivity.
I think in light and dark; I in order and in chaos.
I think in laughter and in loneliness; in utter decay and in constant construction-
No cogs nor wheels turn-- not in my mind!
There isn't some floppy disk or file folder--
No flashes or stills or movies--
No books or sentences instilled to read me perfectly.
Too many bumps and grind.
Too many constant changes.
Too many things to be rewritten,
And thoughts to be taken back.
For a switch to be flipped,
For a light to go on,
For a spark to be had--
It would mean I would have to
And think about it.
I think in truth and in little white lies.
I think in love and in hate-- in hope and in despair-- in the flight and in the fall;
I think in open space and in the closet-- in glaciers and in quicksand.
I shiver and I think.
I thirst and I think.
I walk and I think.
I run and I think.
I leap, and I bound,
And I skip, and hop, and fly--
And trip, and I fall, and I lose my breath--
But get back up--
And I think.
And if by chance that thought leads on to another thought--
Which leads on to another,
And another thought--
And I may think that lesson to share.
I think in words and I think in colors--
And I can't stop to think about it
Because there is no time to stop and think about it.
I'm too busy thinking about it to think about it,
And when you ask me what it is I think--
I think, and I think, and I think.
That switch is already flipped in my mind, so I think.