Without Meaning
This burning
churning somewhere south
of the solar plexus,
nexus of nerves tingling
wringing out electricity,
has led me somewhere—
anywhere—
as movement is necessity,
as electricity is life.
Impulse not recognized,
origin unknown, no purpose
discerned. I have not earned
all of what I have.
I have turned and turned
twisting in the wind of life,
dangling at the end of hope
by a rope of twisted threads
woven by slender fingers—
bringers of thought,
singers of being.
3
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1 comment
Feel free to reply to any comment by clicking the "Reply" button.Kind of Murphy's law and building something with very limited materials.Good write
azzow2
Level 9
June 8, 2018
1
Thank you.
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