What Shall I Make?

The carpenters carved a tree,the bookers booked all three

And I sat here

The rivers flowed on through, the evening slowed as you...

Sat here, next to me

And the publishers promoted these words, as my mind flowed onwards

To uncoordinated dreams, that expected reality

But what should 'I' make? 

Of a life at heavens stake, 

For those and what sake?

I don't care for money, the only thing I can't live without

The key to a cafe, a car, some fuel and the amount

So I sit here, in the only place I feel like me

A slight cast of the reality, that I may not be the success in a life told wrong

Here, or there

Where I care

For you.

The only one who will sit here

Regardless

Reviews

[Distant horizons]

A beautifully crafted and creative write. Flows perfectly into and around itself, with such a soft, maybe wistful ending. Me likey :-)

[Tai Ryens]

I love how the intensity slowly descends into a flawless ending, where thoughts seem to be roaming about wildly; only to be silenced by another simple thought in the ocean of thinking. Well done.