nothing to say
only bland weak thoughts
or flashes of internal light
that spit and immediately grow dim.
my mind wanders like a firefly
caught in the updrafts of emotion,
fleeting sites,
the smell of something once enjoyed,
the heat of a body just out of reach,
left to close off and slowly dim
until the pulsing light is merely a
retinal tattoo,
a smear in the dark.
a ghost of some once present thought,
now forgotten.
thoughts fade like breath on a window,
a dying star
only to be noticed
too late
and left unexplored.
left to wonder
from whence it came
what depths were left unplumbed
what treasures
will remain buried.
inspiration
with not enough inhalation
and far too much
exhalation.
to pause between is the key.
