Somedays I
wish to write something
bombastic
beautiful
that will cause people to fall
head over heels in love
roar through the mountains
birds on a wing
the falcon screaming from its perch
i am master
wild stallions brushing past
scent of musk.
the first grasses of spring
Somedays I
wish to reach out
touch the skies
feel the ice cold age old
edges of stars cutting into my palm
(so many sharp blades)
but
I always run out of words,
always stop short
nib hovering an inch above paper
(white, pristine)
and
the (un)finished product
has not passed quality control.
I
make do with the
gravel digging into my knees (pins&needles)
and
imagine
the scent of crushed pine cones
the dying
sun's rays on
my back.
---By Yue Lin
I have no idea why this came from either. Oh dear.

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