it is wordy this…

a feeling bounding in dimensions.
untethered and buoyant.
my disposition is fleety.
self-satisfied at one time
restless and chaotic the next.
where am i?
what am i?
i am a myriad constitutions,
a wormhole of sinking emotions and ideas.
my pen struggles with the words.
they dangle at its tip and then drop into oblivion.
now the sun has risen.
i see clearly the way to go.
i am hindered no longer by the overbearing uncertainty.
i proceed with replenished determination.
a vigour incensed by hard reality.
torpedoed is the listless soul.
ruins of a grand ideal of utopian connexion.
the pearl is reaped from my hands
and i am wanton for purpose.

Mouton Mangezi

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