See the trees swirl past.
We move, they move,
Our eyes sense speed as elongated shapes slip away,
Impossible to catch in their entirety.
I appear, as a tree – as trees, at intermittent intervals,
Rushing past or attempting to keep up, to remain in focus.
That’s the point:
Blurred focus gives a sense and a feeling as to what is there,
And what is there, amongst the trees that dance, slip and rush by?
Visions of quiet.
Inspired by passing,
And of seeing the mesh,
Touching, feeling and looking deep within, from without.
Can you remember how you felt in the rush and the calm?
I only ask because you can always watch again,