by L.P. Stribling
With a thought,
That’s all you have a first, even before the blank slate,
A thought of something great,
Something that elates you, makes your eyes say, “Ooh my!”
It tickles all through you then,
Because you think, “I can do that!”
And you move,
Through fields, buildings, obstacles,
And you pass people,
They don’t notice, though,
Oh there’s this social media thing that they’re sort of sucked into,
But they don’t feel your passion,
They’re not hooked like you,
Books are loot, you read and gain,
And then, of course, the pain,
There has to be pain,
The insane are, in the end, those who’ve never hurt,
And you fail,
Part of the game (full sail now)
All you have to do is get back up, on your feet,
Most cannot meet this objective,
But you can. The next morning you take one breath
More easily than the day before.
You don’t know them, but they know (of) you.
You talk, you trust, you let them do their work,
And you wait, drives you berserk, but you wait,
Because you’ve had wounds, and they’ve had to heal,
And you doubt while you wait.
What if this isn’t right? you think. What if it never was?
What if it was a waste.
And the pain returns.
Leaving burns on your person, in your life, with your wife? Your husband?
And you stand tall when the day comes,
You’ve been running so long,
You’ve been waiting, wanting, hungry.
And they know that;
They knew it all along.