wisefool

I drag in every syllable
as if they connect into
a transiently present
and stable line
with which I can now
feverishly reel in
the burdensome anchor
that has fallen
deep into the brackish depths
of my swampy psyche

With this sung line
I free my vessel
as the breath
from which it was blown
fills my sails
with robust momentum
to float upon
its melodic waves
into a sun-filled
and joyous future.

If only for a a few moments in time. . .

__________________
Say hello to my frontal lobe.