The cursor is winking at me, Seeing what I see, Knowing after the fact, Rending thoughts.

Do I chase after it? Or does it follow me? Does it know my rhythm? Or follow it? As blank as the page before The words enter my fingers, Before the thoughts transcendent to The words that appear in the fog I call my consciousness. Some must worry at these questions. Observations of the observer. Some must wonder with apprehension, Of sanity beyond insanity, Kesey furthur. I know of no genius that I would gracefully deny, For to erase the line between you and I, Requires humility written from sages. As my affinity for Empty Pages, Sits in the Traffic between my ears, Renders words, thoughts, and tears, History's mistakes, proverbs and fears. Brainstorm # 020312 Samuel Moskalik 2012