Poetry is
An echo
Asking a shadow
To  dance

lord
our wings
break through
these
humble clouds
with
a voice
we shall
sing out loud
when
we choose
our
own temples
somehow

almost words
             eddy in the murked
corners of my mind

they lack
                clarity
                       and  purpose
they lack
               need
                    and wanting

they lie
      fooled by the worth they
think they should have
   and so.... dissapate having
               never been
formed into  words....
         never having been
more than the
                   grunts and groans
of an overtired....mind
         fecund in potential...yet
barren in time.

              almost...words
gone upon the tidal surge

Be careful in your interactions,
Kindness is scarce these days.
One kind gesture,
Could put an uneasy soul at bay.