who moves the
pen
writes as if it
has its own set of thoughts
for any emotion
becomes a topic
for internal discussion
can turn ugly
at times
it is so easy
then it’s too hard
on the hand
limited in
movement
towards the
positive
emotions will
bring smiles yield to sadness
ends as well
realized to be
deeper than once assumed
it could be
done alone
the moon can be
seen
as bringing
some happiness
the ultimate
goal to shoot for
tomorrow might
come
back with pen
in hand
placed tight
over a wanting mouth
hungry for
truth and to regain all lost
in battle or in
vain
love and lose
sight of all that’s important
things become
struggling points
finally to the
sun center
thought thunderbolt
forced
concentration
knowing what
the orange sky means
a pure white
cannot be predicted
when or where
the pen will land when thrown
into the ring
with the champ
who I do not
know
what to count
on one hand with a ring
at the door and
no one is there
maybe spirits
shifting through the between
two points
there has got to be a voyage
extending the
limits of what is understood
or get confused
with all the words
will hide the
importance
lies right here
in this moment
when emptiness
enters the heart
can be broken
daily
affirmations
astounding the skeptics
still don’t see
but eyes given are tools that fail
heart forced
clear vision using the third
attained
through unlearning what’s taught
clearly without
distraction
and the pen
moves without a choice
to rethink
teachings to accept it
what may or may
not be
here and now is
the only moment
thought
thunderbolt
forced
concentration…
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