Aching to create, longing to build, my  head throbs and my bones quake.

Thirsting and hungering for a new kind of life. To draw the death up from these tired bones and resurrection from deeper still.

But I’m tired, yes so tired. My eyelids droop, and my breathing slows.

So I wrote this poem, appeased the ache, and now I’m off to sleep. Maybe morning will wake the creator and I’ll find myself anew.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s