Mundane desire is waning,
swept out of will
like the fickle tide from shore.
The habitual tug-and-drive
courses through blue collar veins;
a manifestation of cause and effect.

Lips mouth words soundlessly...
lyrics or random thought
captured by the moon after being
kicked from the "nest" of a bleeding mind.

Tragic how easily one can
slip into the world of music,
lending individuality in exchange
for immunity only to be lost
and forgotten in between notes and clefs.

01/22/2002

Posted on 01/22/2002
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe