The Fists (a Revised Poem)
faced with a blank wall
the mind passes through it
over the fences
it goes beyond
kicks and jumps away
reinventing wings and
sharpening claws
on its personal journey
into the unknown
more real than what can be touched
by the hands
too theoretical
ephemeral
as one wakes up
for another usual morning
the fingers close upon a fist
lays itself upon the navel
one preaches
'what is here inside my fist
is real'
the wings in my head
are upcoming
unable to flap
and resigned.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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