After a rather longer than intended nap I’m up late again conjuring my restlessness into words. Here’s a new one. I didn’t really want to post it so soon but I might as well. Enjoy!:)


It’s the subject that matters
The viscous fibres that connect all things
The immaterial thought

When found its undeniable
It’s the art that isn’t shared
The things created that go un-praised
What lies beneath the surface

A pulse, invisible, life
Only One can understand It

It does not beg attention
Happily It sits lit secondary
To It’s inordinate surroundings
The backdrop not the forefront
The corps of dancers not the principle
The clouds and stars
Not the moon or the sun
The wind not the hurricane

It boils down to necessity
The base, the Beginning
The End in ways

It’s the platform
The springboard that hurls
The amnesic artist into productivity


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