Well, all this postulation,
all these square-edged pages,
cluttered thought,
have held me, for a time,
in a constricting maze

And I have found my breathing shallow
in the halted place
of waiting
while trying to push time,
regretting,
not able to make amends,
feeling the black ink of belittling stories
run towards my eyes

But all these things must fade
against the call of life,
grow weak against the moist soil,
disintegrate,
be swept away
by the bright deep breathing
of the water cycle,
of earth and sky,
and the clear imprint
of the living day.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 9, 2014