I Am Painting

A hundred tiny steps I’ve made,

Yet countless ones I missed;

I painted thoughts — in verse portrayed

Not quite as an artist.

A hundred falls — I’ve faced them all,

And countless I forgot.

I took a sip of love — so small —

What use is love, I thought?

A hundred words are on my mind,

A hundred rhymes torment;

In them, the darkness was found,

While meaning came and went.

It searches for itself outside

The rules that all obey;

Perhaps I’m dreaming, though I stride —

And live my nights as days?!

A hundred paths I’ve sought, and found

A worthy one to choose.

I’m seeking rhymes; in verse, I’m bound,

With words, my art I fuse.

***

I wrote this brand-new poem two days ago. I need my inspiration back, and I hope it is here again.

Thank you for reading.