Wednesday 21st August.
I yearn to go. To flee. To become. And to stop waiting, waiting, waiting There is nothing to seek There is no way here The Way is a beacon And it's been put before my feet. When least expected And arrogantly clueless It was revealed to me The rest of life pales In to meaninglessness. Backwards and forwards, Shuttling, Without a lingering smile. There could never be an answer: Just more needless distractions. Then I glance outside the window And am drawn moth like to another Not known, never knowing I draw a blank expression As she scurries back Formless as the bus motions on. Protect a rose from our thorns Barbed creature! Snatching, Greedy palms, upward, And tearing love To replace with tears.