Endless

The Empty Chasm of a day, and where might I find inspiration but in this poem . . . I imagine.

Endless

The vast empty chasm,

of sameness .

Haven't I written,

before-

an ode to tea cups!

So precious, so sweet,

so exquisitely set,

but more of the same . . .

regardless of that I love it,

Forever should not be tangled,

in the arms of my tea

that gently rocks me . . .

causes me to hold tight-

swayed by the everlasting motion.

This is surely a common thing-

peace-

it is empty,

a chasm.

I nod to sleep,

in peace . . .

I so want the sunlight though!

I long, pine-

use these fine, dull,

delicately wrought languages-

and still I sit here,

gently rocking myself,

in nothing,

feeling nothing,

emanating nothing.

A slight emotion sometimes flicks,

a shadow- and I shiver,

but the peace-

the meridian princess flees,

to a pretty green chasm,

no longer what peace might be ~

It now smoothes across flames endlessly,

sweet scent of jasmine . . .

warm sun is so repetitious.

I really feel,

like I'm nowhere.

Floating in the Heavenly mist,

a pretty, plain mist,

of light-

of, it's all so lovely,

but I do long,

for a red bug,

a stinging bug to swat away (bugs, bugs- grasping!)

a poisonous snake to offer danger (sparks!) . . .

ah, my life,

is endless.

through the meadows endless.

Infinity is endless.

I shall gently be rocked to sleep.

I must conclude.

Though I do sigh,

I know it's

a sigh,

filled with endless.

Say 'endless.'

Pray tell me,

I'm-

empty.