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Pendulum

Mind is blank.

To fill a page but with emptiness
Leaves my heart as empty as scroll unscribed.
The print of soul is evident
Within and throughout
A poem devised.
There more places, emotions, events uneventful
To viewer be
Than of words be writ
Heart be felt,
Mind be thought,
Soul be dreamt,
Or eyes be seen.
With mind and hand
Wrench a stanza,
So it be a perpetuation
Of perpetuation;
Rolling the wheels
That drive
The heart to feel,
Mind to think,
Soul to Dream,
And eyes to see.
And so it be
That all having been written,
Felt,
Thought,
Dreamt,
And seen
Be forgotten by which
That has never been.

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