It’ll take the breath clean away from you

When you think the implications through.

Tabula Rasa: a complerely blank slate:

No memory, no desire, nothing too soon, nothing too late

Nothing to bend you in any direction,

Nothing to send you lower or raise your expectations.

No future envisaged, no secret desire. A blank slate.

No prescience required  concerning the future 

No past to regret: no errors or stupidities to forget.

Nothing for sale and nowhere to let.

No genetic predisposition to murder or create

Nothing to say and no-one to listen

A new human being is all. Everyday.

Not doing, not making, nothing to recall.

Except high windows in a draughty empty hall

Arriving and departing, all of life, in free-fall.