RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Spirals of thought reaching upwards, wanting to be touched by images comfortably entrenched in my mind.
Sojournly waiting for an entity to come alive, hoping to become the extra-sensory thoughts needed to finish many rhymes of distinction.
Allowing a vast area of my brain to enter another dimension and begin describing it in details, unknown to anyone else.
Reaching further into inner space, feeling it's embrace as I tenderly pick words from a garden of beauty and stamina, creating many more poems to keep me going on pathways of invisible portrayals of novel ideas.
Quietly meditating, feeling calmer by the minute, an existence of forebearance beginning and ending in my soul.
Waiting moments in time to become who I am.
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