• alisdaire_ocaoimph 9w

    Thoughts of space

    I've worn the rigid paper dry
    my ink spills and there does fly
    where once fine lines crossed and stemmed
    Upon the fringe of all that echoed within.
    The silence bears hard upon me
    where the want of will there subjects
    the mind to the hand its action'd course
    Yet! Not a jot ebbs the tide
    or finds a form upon which to ride
    These empty barren thoughts of space.

    © Alisdaire O'Caoimph