A Change Of Thought Poem by Scott J. Shepard

To the Apollo Archetype, a colorful remark
was never half bad.

He had managed to skip a beat.

Hovered over the shortest of straws
where the rest had found relation;

where together they would impel
themselves like spit balls toward the heavens
in search of cohesion,

he would instead gather them like
rain puddles. A motif of short successions,
till he had enough to form a sea.

And when he drowned there, in those waters,
swallowed whole by a feeling, it was
none other than distant.

He had only felt complete.