Sircharlesthepoet

I write about the river
I write about the moon
I write about the sky
though, what I write is rarely in line

I write about the stars
they have a bad habit of healing scars
swaying you into thinking:
It is all right.
I write to sway you into thinking
It is all right.

I write about the waters
I write about the sun
I stand tall with my chest pumped
but a tuned ear can tell
my voice lacks the pitch of authority

I talk loudly
but my echo lacks purpose

I write and
……………Write
with hope
though, I often lose control of my boat

if only you knew…
although my hands shake and my pen rattle
I look with trust upon my sinew
if you’re not fighting, is it a battle?

I write my fortune
then erase with one eye closed
I write a light, shining down my path
so empty spots appear inconsistently

I write into eternity
I write with a lack of stability

I write and am no longer bounded
within one restraint

I write about straight paths
as I walk crisscross.
It is ideal to remain stationary and stable
but I’d rather tumble upon all walks of life

so I write
then write some more
I write
I write
and I am right…

More writing? More writing…

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