A Verse Of Creation Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Pieces of unjust thinking lie waiting on floors of tomorrow's
horizon, knowing that the end is nigh as they wantonly search
for their places in passions of the heart.

Broken, cracked, creased, no longer fitting in where once they
used to belong.

Clouding skies of a mind are continually causing tears to come
and hide in corners of my eyes.

Always glistening, taking notice of everything that comes to
pass, watching for the important creations that are being made
from the nothingness of an interior life.

Manufacturing the best of designs and allowing them to come
about in the latent accounts of another time, certain vantage
points appearing and taking over the roots of entire aspects
of language.

Brilliantly seeking the answers in coded words of music,
leading into arrogant rhythms, pulling my mind along with them.

Nothing in the way of gathering information to show another
day in a verse of creation.