under clouds and in the dark
beside himself with thoughts
the pen the page the words
the soil the seeds for a future harvest
keeping the thinker sane
away from some thoughts
and closer to others
putting things in order
and revising older thoughts
as they grow with the thinker
growth forces change
directional change doesn't mean
the focus has to change
under cold conditions
still outside after dark
culling the soil and germinating
seeds someday that fruitful harvest
will come with confidence
everyday is dealt with evenly
and with great care trying to peel
back each layer upon layer
of history and thought
and a harvest that will
last until the last thinker
closes that book on thinking
and experiencing and learning
under a loneliness he creates
not intention merely side effect
not widely discussed or talked about
and forgotten fire burns the feet
everyday but the hand held is warm
and comfortable and never to be let go of
and connected to an island paradise
and permanently tattooed in the mind...
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