the Flame

Here, at my desk
I find myself,
pen in hand, again.
But now, bereft of faith,
no longer knowing why I write:
a moth returning to the flame.

Poetry by arquious The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 643 times
Written on 2015-01-23 at 13:42

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once again ... don't we all? You say so much with such few words.

Isn't it just the case! You'd think we'd learn right?

Succinct, but substantial. I once heard someone say that writers write because they can't help it. They just have to.

Many will relate to this I'm sure.
You say it all with brevity and it has need of nothing more.