At 4: 19 In The Morning Poem by RIC BASTASA

the mosquitoes are already full
and bound to rest and reproduce their hundred eggs

i wake up. there is something to say.
there are lots of things to do.
i am having a hard time to decide
what 's first, what's next,

then i write this one. this one is different.
it is about a question. it does not demand
an answer though. it is about 'why i am always doing this? '

why i am hooked
to sit down and write again
those that do not really point to a direction

this scatters me like dust
as i try to gather dust again

the fingers run again. some words keep coming.
i wonder. Do these words have meaning at all?

keep going, the words say, keep going.
we will tell you as soon as we arrive there.

it may be about nothing at all. just keep going.
carry us. we will tell you later.that is the catch.
keep going. just keep going. who knows

there may be something out there.