endurance

Running up that big hill,

Running out of breath,

I have no endurance-no strength left.

 

Running up the wall,

Running up the street,

Running all sideways,

the stars beneath my feet.

 

a troubled mind

tries to find the time

to create a story-

or weave a rhyme.

 

a writers mind,

always running-no where to go,

just running on steam,

among broken dreams.

 

Running up that hill,

Running towards free-will,

Running towards a notion or two,

or three.

 

Finding a moment,

covered in honesty reaching for,

glee.

 

Poetry always reminds me,

to find myself,

I must forget all else-

letting the raw ideas flow-

right through me,

like one in a trance.

 

Riddles, sphinx, pyramids

Ancient stuff, it is all a mystery-

entirely over my head-

way beyond me.

 

But Poetry, my Muse

she whispers to me in my left ear, lightly,

she says just that I should run-

run freely until I reach the Sun.

 

Running up the wall,

Running up the street,

Running all sideways,

the stars beneath my feet.

 

Running up that big hill,

Running out of breath,

I have no endurance-no strength left.

wiccan11 Picture 94 IMAG0900

 

 

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