the mosquitoes are already full <br />and bound to rest and reproduce their hundred eggs <br /> <br />i wake up. there is something to say. <br />there are lots of things to do. <br />i am having a hard time to decide <br />what 's first, what's next, <br /> <br />then i write this one. this one is different. <br />it is about a question. it does not demand <br />an answer though. it is about 'why i am always doing this? ' <br /> <br />why i am hooked <br />to sit down and write again <br />those that do not really point to a direction <br /> <br />this scatters me like dust <br />as i try to gather dust again <br /> <br />the fingers run again. some words keep coming. <br />i wonder. Do these words have meaning at all? <br /> <br />keep going, the words say, keep going. <br />we will tell you as soon as we arrive there. <br /> <br />it may be about nothing at all. just keep going. <br />carry us. we will tell you later.that is the catch. <br />keep going. just keep going. who knows <br /> <br />there may be something out there.<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-4-19-in-the-morning/
