all ideas have a life of their own

all the words flew away

to distant countries, cities, continents

I must summon my minions

to pick them all up again

I know it’s not a child’s play, but still

switching between

all these realities used to be so easy

as ABC or pie

falling off a log each time

I had a flow

and now it’s gone?

words do not form a consistent pattern

to let me drown in them and swim

downstream

I feel like I am against it

the main idea still exists

but every time I try to concentrate

it is scattered in thin air

untouchable, unrecognisable, unpredictable

veers in directions I never imagined

and instead of a smooth surge or stream

I am left with just few words

leading me nowhere at all

*

November 2022

***

Thank you for reading!