Tuesday, May 8, 2018

The Unwritten Poem

Ideas stir in my head
Especially in the quiet 
Details speak to me
Thoughts must be perfected

Who cares what I think?
They love the trivial ones
No one wants to get too deep
My deep thoughts are orphans

Thoughts ride between stanzas
Perfectionism is comfortable
Should I hide in the technical?
Forget muses, rhymes and dreams?
Time makes it's demands
Can one live two lives well?
If we had eternity
Who would care?

Yet to be alive 
We must have time
Call it a prison
Or call it a blessing

I will forgo the critics
Especially the one inside my head
I must redeem precious time
To write, sing and dream. 










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