closed eyes blinding
light to side of the road
pausing to figure out
where am I supposed to be
going always right direction
heading forward stronger than
the day before closed eyes
beginning and ending of every day
every short moment
every page in the book
of our lives who is really writing
it all down and what is the point
some might make it through
without putting thought to page
or post and I can’t imagine the day
when the pen stops moving
and maybe I truly have no control
or maybe I value the importance
of holding the pen
stuck nearly three years in one book
random thoughts never again
and always keep it moving
steadily re-inventing as necessary
when necessary is necessary
now…
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