I have a desire to write
As a way to satisfy
The needs, the wants
Of my mind, of my body
That is to release
Or to couple up
The passions, the persuasions
Of pasts, of presents, of futures
This morning I could write
The most mindful of words
With sorrow, with happiness
Shared by the protagonist
With sadness, or darkness
Pushed out
Beyond the periphery
Over the tracks of yesteryears
Any complication, or quarrel
Within my own interior
Would be planed, sanded, smoothed
Then offered by pen, to the paper
