the good life 

‘But the most important thing is not life itself, but the good life’ – Plato, Crito

.

the world is too big for me to tread every path, my feet are itching for a run.

a road diverged in the woods, and i sat at the fork.

deep breaths, inhaling second-hand memories

the tongue tingles with the aftertaste, but my stomach is empty

i read every recipe, but have yet to have a meal.

i can cook – i can breathe;
not all breathing things live,

.

not all breathing things die
or dying things cry
or tears that flow from suffering
if nothing can come nothing
then what is inside me?

what has come forth from nothing?

.

if i cannot tread the path outside,
then lay me at the inner fork.
sit me down at a table,

let me choose forever,

decide my meals for me
and let me savour the coming wafts

how can i not know what is to come?
how can i taste what i have not eaten?

80% of taste comes from the nose.

.

have i truly tasted anything?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s