Was it long or short?
Was there a break at all?
The words jumbled
Floating in mind's jungle
Wild and random
To be strung in a pattern.
Free, shy, questioning intent
Not ready to become poetic content
Even when unsaid
Much was said
In silent emotions
Twisting, turning notions
Evading articulation
Existing as quiet perception
Silent, but not entirely
Teasing and taunting wildly
Just within my reach
And yet, standing apart, each
Today I gather them
Take a break from break, then.
Attempt a new beginning
To try my hand again at writing
From inert, move to creation
Hoping to tap my imagination
Stories, essays, or poems
Let them flow from mind to pens.
On parched earth, may it rain
May it sprout the buried grain
May the silent mind revive again
And tell stories of joy and pain.
Good one
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