Synapse
I rile myself
touching the untouchable.
Perusing all the angles
I am trapped in a corner.
Hopefulness soars; touching the stratus,
only to plummet in the mica.
Thoughts like bridges erect themselves
only to cease right in the median.
Anxiety is an electric force
it remains at different levels.
There is a pursuant peace
occasion has at times acquired.
A battle has been waged
there are no sides.
It is only I
it is just a day.
I am awake…
Joseph James
9-11-11
© from 'O the Elms'
 |