(some)
whispering
something whispers
something is speaking

something is speaking to me
something is speaking through me
something that I could never see

besides the written words I hear
wrapped in my very „now and here“
ambivalent but sounding clear

there is this world I'm living in
things are different – curled up within
this world to which I've never been

these words seem to reveal what's made
just by the sense their letters made
while I returned to where I stayed
and I'm still there 'though I had strayed
I was and I am still afraid

to fail as long as I do wait

afraid that this weird chance could fade
rewriting my poetic fate
by guessing it's never too late
just for a brand new mental state
at last, all things that we await

could fall into place and time and sense
that we mindfully create
                  at chance

but sounding much like thought through plans
suggested by looped confidence
but writing on through doubting hands
what each thought newly understands  
right when the whispering starting ends