..In The Middle Of These Hours... Poem by RIC BASTASA

it is past midnight here
where i live and sleepless
i write a poem without a
purpose it is thoughtless
but i write it as i write it
as though it is a dictation
from someone else from somewhere
i do not really know where
someone without a name yet
somehow without rhyme or reason
it is a way to check on me and
you too why you are reading me
why we are here meeting in the
middle of a poem at the middle of
these hours and we must admit
we are lost but never afraid we
are confident that in so doing
we may find ourselves but we
never give it any significance at all.