I don't smile, the same way at least
My hand doesn't tremor anymore
This pen flows like the water
In which the aquatic wilderness swims

I've found courage
So I look up to the skies
A heart that skips a beat
As a white bird scores a fish

I've found self-expression
Art and wisdom; candlewax pours
It melds with the polish of my table
Books, papers, pens, memories

These are the fragmented thoughts
Of a writer
On the verge of a breaking down
Tired of waiting and waiting