a poet's reasoning

my provenance is the earth

the moon my muse

the slightest atmospheric disturbance

can shatter my fragile defenses

leaving me naked and exposed

too much of me has been scattered throughout life

there are pieces I will never find or collect

the strength for such a journey has been spent

I have devoted so much of my time to others

there is barely a minute left for myself

I cannot rejuvenate, regenerate, or reconstruct

there are only words, spread across a page

perhaps a syllable will seize one fiber of this paper

bringing a poem to life before my eyes

thereby anchoring the poet to a world

that becomes more elusive with the passing of each day