Morgan

The North wind moans among chords of wire
Slicing the clear air of another dull Sunday afternoon
A reflection ? No, Im reflecting
On the fact that  ive once again been left without inspiration

She has heart, has fire, and fire abound,
Yet all that she treasures somehow burns to the ground  ?
Sometimes briefly  the wisdoms dispensed
All the more angry for that am I
Symphonies don't end in the blink of an eye
A thought, a symphony like hers, and she yet barely has to try
A master piece produced, dead pan, never an irony
No acknowledgement of achievement, no vanity or pride !

The world of the mundane eventually floods in
On line expectations never fulfil, and I can certainly vouch its so
Have I not spent seasons bound to an empty screen ?
I too have had my missions of attentions, in the past, time wasted, but at home
Two creatures are we, corrupted the same
And all those around us would see were the same, if...
Slash and burn of whats worthy was / never will be the answer !
To lie down at this stage ? Is there nothing more to gain ?
I know you know life never does change, eternally thwarted ?
Morgan, keep playing the game...


Not sure where this has come from this afternoon ! / 2014