It’s been weeks.

World conspiring against me.

No time to pause

To take stock of my environment.

Just pushing through, as best I can,

Till the end is reached,

And time for self once more is found.

 

And now there is a pause,

For the moment, responsibilities met.

I want to write, to tell a story or share a thought,

To have a piece of the universe

that is mine, if just for a moment.

But…

 

The ideas I had, and even recorded,

Will not come. Too weary

for the magic to take hold,

for the words to flow.

I want desperately to share my thoughts,

But they fly around the room, too fast to catch,

too hard to grasp, even for an instant.

 

The world has sapped my strength,

at least for the now.

Finally I have time, but not the energy.

Life, sometimes, preempts living

I see the need to pay homage

to life, it is felt, it is real,

but the act of living puts too many

burdens on my time.

 

And, yet, the desire is here.

The need to write, to be creative,

if only for a moment, drives me to try,

to put something down that can be shared,

that may help heal the world in some small way

 

Perhaps the story I want to tell

will spring forth as I write.

More likely, though, what I can write

in this moment is limited to lament.

 

Wanting to write, but lamenting

the state of the world that interferes,

that requires attention focused elsewhere.

That, too, can be uplifting,

a balm on the wounds suffered in Living.

 

Perhaps the best I can do, today,

is thank the powers that be

for a moment to lament.

 

Then heal to be creative,

to write once more and share visions

of what the universe may be,

of what we can make it.

 

If only we take these moments given,

to see what is and to help each other deal with Living,

becoming better people in the universe.