rosepoems

How do you break one moment into a million pieces,
disturb the unremitting trail of a speeding train,
and knock it forcefully from its track?

How do you break the monotony
that is daybreak and sunset
and cereal for breakfast, a sandwich for lunch?

How can one dive into a deep pool of passion
while sitting at a desk, gazing into the unforgiving eternity
that is an excel spreadsheet?

How do we become a version of ourselves,
the version that plagues us
quite literally yelling out inside our heads
that we must do more?

Perhaps, the answer is simplistic.
An understatement of grand proportions.
Or innocence? Naivety? Litotes?

Or perhaps it is the only answer that exists,
and we simply have yet to uncover
its true depth.

For the answer is to write a poem.