Crawlings into a Larger World

By Samuel Powell

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Striving for life

In imagination

But hindered by words

In my explanation

Of self.

I can’t make decisions;

I think way too long;

I’m content but still reaching

to lay down the song

Of myself.

But isn’t that vanity?

Reaching for such a small drop in the sea?

Maybe.

But still,

It’s me.

Lucas, Lewis, MacDonald – stones –

Have kindled the loves of my mind.

In my words dwell Creator

And all his design

Within me.

Yet,

I fear the mountain

Of stone upon stone,

Feeling I have to drag up my own

To the

Top.

How can I see it through?

I need a good story, real people, and craft.

I’d like to get past the initial rough draft!

But this I have yet to do.

So far, I’ve gathered a handful of pebbles

And built a small stepstool from which I can stand on,

And one day,

It will be a Lighthouse.

And from its lens I’ll form the beam

To say what I mean

or not what it seems,

And I will control the sea –

Just me.

Or,

the stone will crack,

and the lens will shatter,

and

all

will

come

tumbling

down.

and I be left without

a sound –

just me.

Either way, I’ll take my pen,

And then I’ll begin again.

S.P.