I hear myself breathing, restless with no creative thoughts, all the while trying to slow my mind.
Yet the instance that I close my eyes and count the time, darkness awakens me, closing from behind.
Sounds, whispered in the air, speak beauty in the hopelessness, I wonder but where.
So much of everything to do and to say, so much thought gone awry, proving the soul of my conscience to be uncommonly bare.
There, in that space, in that time, in that place, hands cry out, empty, no feeling to spare.
Restless, motionless, continually moving, with no wonder at all of the cost or how much the fare.