A Quiet Something

Moved by the listlessness

from nothing to a hopeful Something

the finish line blurred with no sign of a starting point.

serenaded by the night, Motivated by day

each moment, a tease 

with its own fleeting allure.

where is cohesive interpretation? 

   authentic inspiration?

at its finest

at its least convenient

Picasso on a runner's high

Revolution, fast-forward

The Creed

Hit me tonight with the intensity of a thousand floods. 

floods that leak for years within, but surge soon after past all sanity, and to its undeniable breaking point

a breaking point severely overestimated, engulfing all that I am, 

all I could ever dream of proving to you. 

Hit me tonight and destroy every other option until I see none other

until I am annihilated

until I see the light of The Other World and know the quality of The Truth more certainly than the quantity of The Possibilities. 

until the flood that erupts from my heart percolates your credulous forehead. 

Perspiration. Inspiration. 

Author's Note

late-night scribbles

Reviews

[.]

amen ...beautifully haunting melody of truth

[Robin]

the creed ... yeah