Thread: Pigtaru's Poetry 11

Title: For the moment

For the moment I sit and write,
the pen flowing ever so effortlessly across the plain,
across the flats, hurdling the lines inbetween the white spaces,
tumbling and dancing along its own slow gentle rhythm,
sketching the manifestations of the mind, please pen give me a sign,
empty my burdens and fill me with joy,
bring back the warmth of spring and summer,
write away the cold and lonely chills of winter weather,
pierce the soft gentle surface and inject your antidote.

For the moment I sit to reflect,
gazing beyond these walls that confine the spirit,
looking ahead into the future, reminiscing the past,
accepting the present, a present unwanted,
a present unjustified, a present with no close end,
a present that hungers for the pleasure around the rough river bends.

For the moment I engage my ears,
opening them to the sounds of my worse fears,
sounds of harmonizing prayers and tears,
the clock ticks and my ears count out loud,
the waves ripple from the center of the mind's pond,
growing and amplifying the tense nature of my worries,
dripping droplets of discouragement.

For the moment, I am not myself.