What Gravestones and Neurons Trigger Relics of Consciousness

Francis Scott Key
is just as deceased
as every other body
taking up real estate
in the cemetery
of his namesake
across the street
from the Orioles’
minor league stadium
where this picnic table
by some unspoken carpenter
keeps me dry from the rain
so I can sit and contemplate
such cryptic thoughts

But what does it mean?

Other than serving
the compulsion
to put words on paper
in whatever form
the present scene
happens to shift through my noggin

When I was a senior in high school
after 12 years as a solid player
I was knocked off the mound
and out of the game
in the top of the first inning
during a playoff elimination contest

The single worst performance of my life
bar none
at the most inopportune moment
for both the team
and my fragile teenage psyche

It was the last time I ever
stepped on the field as a participant

It took around a decade
to fully recover

The point is:
every experience decays
back to the soil
where warmth and water
transmute to cultivate
the eternal continuation
through spring fruition

so to in the spirit
where cursed suffering
toils alchemically
in boggy marsh
before rendering blessings
that allow

me to run my mouth
in lieu of tossing baseballs

Scott Thomas Outlar is a lover of truth and enjoys researching philosophy, psychology, politics, spirituality, and any other facet of consciousness in the pursuit of reaching a higher state of vibration. He also enjoys writing rants, poems, essays, short stories, and prose-fusion screeds covering such subjects. Scott Thomas can be reached at 17numa@gmail.com. You can also watch and/or subscribe to his YouTube Channel Read other articles by Scott Thomas, or visit Scott Thomas's website.