May the unbegun begin to scroll down or up
and make my journey through the letters,
the words that make the thought,
the sentence that rings with doubt
and confidence.
but not without emptiness -
full of emptiness, a manifold of ideas
for the brain has a mind of its own
and we are editors of sensation
behind the eyes
between the ears
above the tongue
in reveries of dreams that exist and don't exist
in pastel shades of black and white
that explode into the daylight
of becoming a beginning of the end.
Fred Babbin
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fireworks-28/
