Restlessness Of The Spirit

to chat after midnight
and to continue to read even
when the eyes begin to fail to see the light
to write
whatever comes to mind
another poem
recalling the past
mistakes uncorrected
a new word to redeem what the self lost
retracing the patterns of the usual
hands in surrender
fingers without thoughts but still moving to capture a syllable
fretting flitting
whatever
sleep that seems cruel to
dreams
this inability to choose to cease then i tell myself
i do not really know a thing anymore.
about you.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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