K.C. Ford

(not dead yet / crowle)

The Rim


The rim of the curved earth anchors my feet.
and the business of men occupies my hands,

But something beyond daily trivia
Drives the blood through the living brain,

Something beyond probing, mental tendrils
Stirs deep in the hidden core,
elusive as the physical touch of thoughts
that dance as aerial shadows,
Teasing the fingers that cannot touch,
Tantalising the mind that cannot grasp.

Such is the substance of madness,
such is confusion, an inability to decide,
a confliction of desires of equal strength
Tears the fabric of fragile thought.

The delicate balance of mind wavers,
The emotional heart erupts chaotic needs,
but hope, born in living flesh
Grows the greater drawing breath
The spirit that dares to breathe.

Submitted: Monday, January 06, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, January 07, 2014

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Ever felt like you're going nuts? This poem describes one such time when my head was all over the place.

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