thoughts he thinks alone

making up for lost time
all in one day
he might get understood
until then he will move a pawn
in a defensive position guarding
a queen he hasn't seen in years
constant pen movement
leaves his arm throbbing at times
too complex for his own simplicity
watches the ink in the pen dwindle
after only one day of use
only to those who might well
think this much
as the well is too deep
for any of his wishes
to even be heard
an hour goes by too fast
under smoke when it burns
the eyes are all dotted lines
signed crossing bridges and t's
when need be silent like he
has been here too long
he thinks his thoughts
alone one day
it will pay off and balance
achieved right in the middle
of a lonely month
relief might well
arrive with dawn...