Like dry sand running through your fingers,
faint susurrations of thought,
ephemeral and non cohesive,
falling in motes of the unsaid,
creating a beach at my feet.
Where is the torrent, the raging waters of inspiration?
Where is the jumble and collide caused by the tides of imagination?
I am marooned in the calm empty of a shallow pool
with not even pebbles to reflect a distant sun.
I bask in the warmth of the sun,
yet search for the zephyr of air,
that will launch my ship again.
© ceenoa
beautiful writing.
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Thanks you very much for your kind comment. Love the name of your blog 🙂
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Words can sure be elusive at times! Liked the second and third verses best.
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it started off different and then morphed into something else, and I hadn’t the heart to change it.
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Yep. I’ve been there for about two weeks now.
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It’s really difficult. Sometimes things just don’t do what they should. Hope a storm (or a gentle breeze) comes to waft your ship along. 🙂
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Thanks.
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