It’s like finding a rhythm,

when words celebrate our lives.

Beating at the central idea is a pattern

of well thought out delivery

in the way lines would wind through

an active state of mind.

I can feel the momentum

when it drives me one way or another.

Tonight I could imagine being at peace,

when then hours later I became distraught.

I’d want to talk about that, I’d say,

and yet there’s nothing to really listen to.

I made up my mind decades ago,

yet something prevents any progression.

I listen for the notes that could inspire me,

trying really hard to let them in my space.

Seems foreboding to reveal these thoughts to everyone,

I can’t help but think the truth is my merit.

Walk with me down my favorite pathway,

feel the beauty inherent in a quiet release.