‘Idle Is Bliss, Only Thinking’ – By Seth Finnegan

Rich smoke for the merciful minute

Down to the last dark flakes

Something awakes to the senses

A feeling which numbness forsakes

Then I’m free as a lark or a linnet

Or cats which think nothing of fences

Idle is bliss, only thinking

For the mind runs on auto when still

We fill in the days temporal span

I watch the lone sun on the hill

And puff to the clouds petal pinking

Can you catch me like clouds if you can?

To lean on an old rusty gate

And watch the crows clod hop the earth

From our birth we are marked for a story

If we knew it of infinite worth

Pipe pleasures my sweet compensate

For pain on the thresholds of glory

I see as the evening folds day

Like a tablecloth crumbed with the stars

The future is ours with a quickening

Glimpse caught in smoking these hours

So stay with me, traveller stay

And shy from the old world of sickening

By Seth Finnegan

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