The Habit
the habit is an epoxy
attaching a part of my thoughts
to your thoughts
yet somehow there is no spark
of understanding
like a star bursting
and so everyday as the sun rises
killing the shadows of leaves
in my mind
i keep taking track of what happens
a word stands as a boundary
a punctuation marks
a departure
and there are questions like guards
and sentries of
the parapet
there are birds unable to fly from the
hammocks of the mind
there are works unable to come out
from the hollows of the heart
and so the journey to another desert
with the camel and the
carpet starts all over again
there is no end
this habit has no purpose but to satisfy
what i do not know
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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