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So Early in the Morning the Great Things I Write

I’m sitting all alone in this solid night
in the yard behind my home watching the fire end its flight.
It’s quiet all around; the fire consumes my sight.
Now a great roaring sound is coming from the light.
The thought eats at my conscience as I always knew it might
because I’m starting to doubt if I can tell what’s wrong from what is right.
Why do I switch sides so often? Why this constant fight?
How come I’ll change in a heartbeat from black back into white?
I’ll chew and never swallow; too much off I bite.
Dreaming of escape. Flying like a kite.
But the homely ropes are bound so unbearably tight.
So I’ll wonder about my life and the fall after the height.

poem by D.M.L. Catseye
Added by Poetry Lover
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