It’ 10.33 and the onus is on me
I have battled with my wits and still I cannot see
I have written and I have thought
and all these words come to naught.
Around in circles again as before
and yet no better at any score.
The pen flowing as are the words
and yet it cannot relinquish it’s chords.
The first circle the last – whether it take
forever to come or as in the past,
when to enlighten or never,
but only to frighten !