...and turns me into a clock needing a wind-up
again and again. Sill, I’m asking for the help
from the holy hand of Him.
Sometimes it’ll come in a serine, natural view
as my organic ideas grew.
What can I say, plants, I love them.
Or maybe,
it could be symbolism- like a bird that is free
flying against a sky that’s not-so grim.
Now I’m thinking of going melodic
from here on out, of course, by staying in sync
within this poem.
Although, to you, my words may seem abstract
I want to afflict
no alarm.
I’m just getting excited
as my creativity heightened
submerged in idealism.
In my mind’s eye, there’s a clear mess to go through.
Sigh…
I must remain calm,
breathe in and out and again,
so this story can begin.
Ahem,
now listen as I speak my mind...