Wandering words, evasive prose
Removed from my clutching mind
Incredulous laugh, they dodge and hide
Tiptoeing through my daily grind
Enters but briefly an image so clear
Rippling through my hungry thoughts
'twixt eager fingers awaits my pen
Shamelessly nebulous, I follow the dots

Bumbling through, I falter and fall
Lying face down in a pool of nouns
Organising verse to paint image ablur
Clumsily in finished verse I drown
Kindling gone, die these embers of rhyme...
...for prose to revisit, I await my time.

Beyond these unyielding doubts
cast upon me like rust-splintered chains
haunting my every thought
my every breath
there is reason
for my existence
the strength of which carries me beyond the fog
from which these chains are cast

there is purpose in my struggle
a light that burns unrelenting
searching the summits
riding the storms to their end
darkness be ******
the rain and wind of change
only serve to make me stronger
more determined
to write these thoughts
that lay in waiting
for those willing

I remain a poet
in this age of the dying word