Inspiration has been scarce lately, when it comes to poetry. I have had a longer drought than I remember since I really started writing it. But, with the drought comes... the end of the drought. (You see, not so poetic). But fear not! There is hope. I've finally written a poem. Inspired by a beautiful trip to Oregon with three great friends. I really don't care if this isn't the best poem I've written, because I know that my drought is over!
I'm not sure I've expressed the concept in the final stanza sufficiently. If you think it could use some elucidation, comment.
The Language of the Mind
A mile of sand behind me
and many more miles of water
ahead,
my feet sink deeper,
the sand sliding away
like an unformed thought
at the sight of true beauty
A fluorescent glow sets an
undefined shadow
that swims and bobs on
each new wave.
The glow is dimmed
and my shadow is lost,
waving.
The cloud,
a luminescent hand,
brushes the face of the effulgent moon
with an extended finger
before fleeing off.
My shadow waves hello.
An unborn thought,
untainted by human language,
is in the dialect
of the ocean
