quod scripsi scripsi

while rain comes down in squalls and thunder claps
i try to sleep and calm my whirling brain
the thoughts that don't quite make it to the top
but dwell immanent just below awareness

are platonic shadows on the cavern wall their flickering
alarms and teases but does not quite reveal
the flame that makes them swim upon the wall
and torment my poor mind with not-quite-there


the words seem solid firm indicating substance
the thoughts behind them i am not so sure
i know the story know how i must tell it
but hear a voice saying is it enough?

do i have it right is it the proper story?
or am i simply frittering my time
to tell a tale that no one wants to hear
in a time when other images shine in the light?

i leave this thought so far from resolution
and write a poem to relieve my fears