My words seem to be separating into the light divided by a darker stream. It isn't a nightmare, more like a cry for help, it seems. Dreaming always. Caught in an imaginary tornado, deep inside its restless core. Spinning uncontrollably. There's no escaping. However, there are hinges but know signs of an open door. I've been rotating for hours back and forth all over again. The tornado is indestructible, there's no force that can turn it back. I am just a poet trying to write what I sometimes feel is liking, don't turn your back. Don't be alarmed, I am not contagious, my poetry will testify. Before much more time passes by. I will write until my words are needed. To be read and held up high. Until then, remember my weakness, words are divided and that's no lie. Faith will bring my words together. The holy scriptures tell me so. With forgiveness and consideration. My words will emerge as a single one. The digit one can not be divided. I will relish Changing, when the rebirth comes. I realize wholeheartedly, I am just a speck, in the vast universe of Writco's sky. Don't treat me like an outsider because I have over one thousand likes. Be kind and return your attention to the manner in which I write. Sincere secrets.
© Daniel Mason