November 17th, 2021

How It Starts

Not always, but often, this is how it starts.
There comes a nagging feeling at my heart,
Knocking recurringly, and in its hand
A scrap of paper holding just once sentence,
Whispered into my ear as a command:
Complete this phrase, perform it as a penance
For all your vagueness, work it out in words,
A web of sound that somehow carries meaning,
Not perfectly clear, perhaps, but at least leaning
Toward clarity. And I, as by now you've inferred,
Take up the challenge and struggle to append
Thoughts that will bring the starting thought to an end.