I send my mind through
A whirlwind
A spiral.
The words pour out
Torrential, they cause a sort of
Fear that when the mind does steer
I might falter, might fall.
But I do not lose hope,
I do not give in,
I control.
I gather my skill,
Gather tools of my trade.
That wit may stay with me is
My only wish, so that I might be able
To fuel my mind with love.
With wonder, I feel
That I might
Someday
Gather hope.