Metamorphosis of Time

Fingers tremble
and eyes focus
on a white page
with a pen in one hand
and a fist of dreams

Plunged into the metamorphosis of time
and wrapped in garments of angst
whilst fire burns
and smoke grabs at the lungs
I reach out for air,
grabbing wisps of nothingness

My body ages
My mind increases in folly
The reliance on my undetermined fate
seemingly fixed beyond my strength
Who can I talk to?
What can be done when all has been done?
What has been done?

Letters on paper
requiring much insight
Understanding
Love

I continue the walk
tho’ my soles are thin
My eyes glisten when I laugh
and your reflection can be seen in them

I’m so tired, dear God, so tired.

© The Drummer Poet
10/05/2016

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