PRISONER OF TIME 2 © 2008

The word is tedious,

Persistent in its relentless search,

Always seeking the thought,

That wanders free, floating.

It wants to capture the idea in its filament,

Weaves lines, stitches the void,

Trying to shape the abstract feeling,

So that, at last, the verse comes out smooth.

And when it finds, in the wandering mind,

The spark of inspiration that captivates,

A stanza forms, shining and vibrant,

A rare gem, a stanza of silver.

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