The Great Intent

Do my words make sense

as they jump and leap across the page-

across the stage,

while you listen- formulating

what I must mean?

The great intent of all writing...

And if I told you,

it was neither formed

through the deep thought you thought had taken course,

nor through precision planning or dictated perils...

The words, themselves, dictate our travels?

Falling from mind onto page,

in odd rhythmic bursts

like dancers on stage;

entrapping me, the writer, as I watch-

as much as you are lost in thought.