Back to life.
Back to reality.
That moment I chose to speak.
I committed psychological adultery.
I intercoursed my words; my thinking, all to your conscience.
I keep falling into oblivion.
I keep forgetting- anybody and everything not me, is not me.
Either I tell you or you tell me.
It’s a secret we all seed.
Whether we both saw it.
Or we tell ourselves to both keep it surreptitious.
And says on top,”none is to spill the beans.”
That alone is- broken reeve.
But I speak for myself.
In my hora tertia, when I’m visited by many holy thoughts.
And it leaves my mind by my tongue to the world, it seizes to be a secret.
Though I prayed it not to be told.
It becomes a piece at my listener’s discretion.
I can’t tell if it is secret anymore- when it decides not to stay in my mind only; when it was seen not only by me or committed by me but seen by three.