The lost Idea
The Lost Idea
Peering, stooping, closer now
Within the water drop.
I see the outside from the inside.
Shapes bend and distort my view.
Sliding over pages past
Creating new and beckoning worlds.
Writing becomes the metered pulse
Formed and deformed as the words flow through.
Images flash, freeze and disappear.
Grab them now or they are gone.
Focus deep to find the core.
Minds too fast to stop the flow.
Working from the inside out
Gives credence to the mind inside.
Record, repeat and make them stick.
Too late. The words fall naked off the empty sheet.
Denis Hearn 2018