We Sometimes Weep
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What really makes the fingers grip the pen and write, or tap out a pattern of keys resulting in words that somehow usually make sense, even though we gaze at the paper and scratch our heads often with ”where did that come from?”
We Sometimes Weep
by Odin Roark
Who wrote this poem,
This conjunction of thoughts
From memories,
Mine?
Experiences solely,
Mine?
Number, line and dot,
Understandings,
Mine?
Asking.
Always we ask
From where
Drifts,
Darts,
Stabs,
Slides,
These words.
Assume we must.
Alchemy of mind?
Maybe.
Channeling?
perhaps.
Inspiration?
Mmm.
Answers.
A guess.
Assumption.
Calculation.
Odds.
Chance?
Even when willing to
Ask,
Assume,
Answer,
There seems to be no stopping
Our floating about.
Pages, our magic carpet.
Transporting us to
Cave-walls, yet to be discovered,
Time's ancient etchings,
Continuance awaiting arousal.
From where this endurance originates?
We know not.
We ponder.
We sometimes weep.
Copyright © Odin Roark | Year Posted 2015
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