its like when i was a child,
digging deep craters,
in the sand,
sweating through my sensitive skin,
only then the sea would wash in,
and the hole begin to fill up again,
But now as an adult it is not the
hole that is forever filling up,
no matter how often i emptied it,
no, now it is my mind,
now i empty my thoughts,
splashing them out onto a page,
poems, poems streams,
and reams of words,
for a fleeting second,
the mind is empty,
and still, just resting,
then within the movement
of the hands on the clock,
it begins to fill all over again,
every emotion mixed together,
in the melting pot of my mind,
an endless motion,
of emptying and filling,
filling then emptying,
even at night,
when dreams and nightmares,
fight for the right to air there show,
the poems never ever slow.
Not Long Left
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poems-like-a-child-digging-a-hole-in-the-san/
