I Find

Sometimes,
In the space of time,
In a room
Cooled by the artificial,
I yearn to write.

To put pen to paper,
To stroke the keys
Of a keyboard
And let words
Stretch from my mind
Into the ether.

Oh,
Heavy heart that believes
Itself incapable of linking
Words together and release
Ideas as poignant and relevant
As speeches of kings and presidents.

Still it is capable,
Capable of transmitting passion
To my mind, or is it
My mind transmitting passion
To my body.

A passion that allows me
To write tomes upon tomes
Of thought, original thought,
My thought.....

A passion that drives me
To scale large mountains
And fall from the heavens.

A fallen angel, I am not,
A good devil, I may be,
Better to be bad and choose
To be good, than be good
And crave to be bad.

With great effort,
I pull from my soul,
These words and
In their existence
I find beauty....
I find release .....
I find me!