Insatiate Thirst

“A poem begins as a lump in the throat,
A sense of wrong, homesickness,
 Lovesickness.”  ? Robert Frost  

Insatiate Thirst  

As sleep
Silently slinks
Lids slowly lift

A burgeoning day
Noiseless, noisy
Life, quickening
To pray, prey in life’s fray

In implacable, absolute
Quiet, I begin today
Sans boxed chants, fear
Fraught news on display

Bud of inner flame
Glows in strength
Of earned wattage
No more, no less

On eternal quest
To increase this glow
Daily I plug, propel
Power away..

Rising sun shows possibilities
Fire impurities daily at life’s kiln
Readying self thus to finally rise- a winging
Phoenix  homewards bound, on final swing


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