ARRIVING

There’s a room in the between.

A room with three walls for thoughts

and an open side accepting

a wide flow of words onto the altar

where their weighed and judged

for worthiness. Years of words are

watered here in the garden of expression,

until finally harvested and released

to be viewed by others and ingested.

 

It’s a freedom to discover the person

within you; releasing pockets of thoughts

to be tested by the probing eyes of

chance reckoning.

 

Thoughts are like puzzles. Some

writers will never arrive. Some will

never know when they have.

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