I, alone, I am one, alone,
The mind explodes in effervescent rabbit trails,
Woodpeckers pounding on plastic keys.
I mull over schemes of dominance,
Betrayal, long lasting greatness.
Would that this pen breath everlasting life,
Would that this paper bear immortal infamy.
I dream a hundred years from now,
A poor sod, bereft of distractions,
Should wander through cyber space,
Oh and there!
An earnest poem, a clever word!
“I am moved,” he says aloud.
“My soul rejoices for this mighty mind,
Etched out with blood and bytes upon my screen,
A language my brain can deliciously devour,
My soul can joyfully consume.
His name I shall cry out unto the skies,
That the very god of heaven would hear my lament,
And return, once again, this sacred author,
To this dark earth,
That his greatness shall carry on,
And his light shall scatter the foulest midnight.”
Never alone, written words, not yours alone.