I am troubled
My brow is tense and creased
The lines even deeper
Am I setting myself up for a fall?
I think I want one thing but do I want another?
The effort is made to try and place it elsewhere
We create what 'is' with our wondering thoughts
So is it inevitable?
A change of thought pattern will shape a different future
Unease of the heart always causes such angst
Maturing years make it no easier
Confusion rules my head
Causing conflict in the heart
Not knowing mists over stable ground
I tread tentatively and cautiously
When the steps become more sure
The right path has been found, possibly,
Something is said
Unguarded I stumble a little
Unarmed and lost I freeze for a moment
A million questions in such a brief time
Do I continue walking this way?
Is this slightly uneven path under my feet or through the land of my mind?
Kenza, that is beautiful, I love the theory that poetry are like dreams are the subconscious us bubbling to the surface
ReplyDeleteI like that theory too! The language of poetry is so free, unrestricted an expressive...it can be short, long...big words, little words...anything! It feels good :-)
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