Thoughts Heading Uphill for an Hour

An empty world’s not possible,
And neither is an empty mind.
The waves in air, the tints in skies,

The waves on shores, the dance of trash,
The sensations of any kind
Running messengers up and down

Your fine, elaborated spine—
You’d have to go full sensory
Deprivation to escape that.

Hallucination’s what you’d get.
Ah, but a socially empty
Phenomenal experience,

A breathing time without humans
Or reminders of your own kind
Outside of your own memories,

That’s possible. Difficult, yes,
But worth it if you can get it
For just a little bit. A rest.