When I worry I gather myself
I become a cat
A cat playing in pure instinct
Perched on a limb gazing
I become a tree
The blind growing skyward
Reaching high by millimeter
I become a leaf transpiring
Breathing drops of water
Rising with the morning air
I become a nimbus
Drifting far above cares
Till I rain down upon me
I become a sting of wetness
Reminding me I am the world
Worrying too much about me
The cat, the tree, the clouds
In me a quaternity
Banished by worry
Till I return to ok-ness
so long the days of singing rays
have come to meet their sullen end
twixt nights of joy with hidden ploy
a sweetly tone, they do offend
O gasp! the serpent true must strike
O gasp! the lustful raging psych
whose cares are lost forever long
roaring out, O hear my song!
now mute...peace...whist...still
ideas soon drain, decisions fill
a mind at pace with thoughts that spill
float soundlessly thy solstice chill
the misty seep, foreboding reap
emotions run amok like thieves
for darkly cast, a favored past
along is lain misguided leaves
-Sam Robinson
Iambic Tetrameter
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