To All The Notebooks Wasted Poem by John Weber

How often have I blundered
at the precipice
with brimming enthusiasm
hollowed by doubt and
want for survival?

With breath arrived a passion
to express beyond mere words
the notion that we are never alone
even when gripped by horrors
wrought against fellows.

Along your spiral spine I climb.
Your teeth clamor knowingly
with palpable fear at being dutiful
to the whims of an impatient
and infantile mortal.

Within the discarded stack lie
tattered attempts and regrets,
my soul laid bare on a bear skin.
'I promise to push harder since
peril provokes my pen.'