PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I fight the distances between myself and the desires I have, but as they are only very loosely gestalted, I end up lost in what would be the middle of the way. Desires are losses in themselves. I watch the clouds in their undeciseveness and think: there must be a place hidden in the here and now where I can take rest from endless restlessness.
some of the joy comes from renewed expectations, but most of it comes from what is, here and now, and it is always a poorly drawn line on a drawing with a bad-taste color match.
It's not black and white, no. were it black and white, all doubts would be solved, all the questioning would cease. I would make the way there easily. nothing reaches out for me except my own efforts to come out of whatever sense of loss, residues of sadness.
so I contemplate, because clouds will be blown here and there eternally and so will thoughts in this very mind that keeps me and unkeeps me.
I'm glad there is a way out of here.

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