The Speed of Slow

I want to know the Speed Of Slow;
I want to know To Never Know,
to have no Known Idea.

I want to know the beat that peace makes-
Rhythm played
by feet of horses towing Amish buggies.
I want to taste the fruit of labor, ever savoring the flavor-
honest scent that never says nor once implies
that man can fly through time and never
whispers that the times are flying either.


I want to get from creek to peak remembering that every moth
that I walk past is passed by in the sum of beats that leave its wings
while in my presence-
wholly as it should be and only as it could be,
never more and never less.

Dressed in their tranquility,
I want to wear as many winds from beating wings
as likely when I’m walking, locking
every breath of life into my soul. I want
Whole. I want
to know it, always confident.

I want to know The Little, see, the
Never Knowing What I’m Missing as I’m inching-
I may miss the boarding of Titanic!
I don’t want to hit
that ship.

I want to know the Speed Of Slow.
I want to know no urge of rush, to never know
that there are such goals that wait to be achieved
in realms of capabilities,
to feel no obligation to such endless possibilities-
Insatiable is every salty, hopeful, hopeless tease. I want
to be

I want
to lug no baggage labeled Faster,
to be mastered by no sense of ought or could
but to hold innocence
sans all pretense
instead. I want to know

I, I
I want-

I want to know the Speed Of Slow
to be as fast as I can go,
with no clue for my knowing
just how slowly I am going.

15 thoughts on “The Speed of Slow

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