When life only seems to be stuck in a rut,
I fade into dark until light is a must.
Words are compounded ’til soul has been grounded
to know that some writing desires a sighting.
Sighting for many or looking to few,
is always for plenty of numbers in crew.
Looking for pleasure by working for others
is never the mother I want to discover.
Only by writing is how I find lighting
in all of the darkness that takes away sharpness.
So I remain in my favorite known lane
that will drive me insane as I reach for more gain.
Yet I’m ok with succumbing to crazy
because it’s more fun than a mind that is lazy.
The only time that I know I would die,
is when I no longer have wanting to write.