it’s the sense of having nothing to do—
though surrounded by inspiration
conversations bombarding the ear
start an analyzation.
My thoughts becoming lamps hanging
in the obscure tunnel that i travel
with a hissing passion bringing me
to astonishment.
before my destination, I arrive at an idea sometimes
it waits for me—standing on the platform alone,
in the open air, where cold wind brings the echoes
the bench sitting in suspense, waiting for its purpose

by CHARLES JOSEPH
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