Flow short poem

Photo by remmerysilke

How can White define the
Spread of days,
Speed, a haze,
The blank slate,
Looks barren.
The pause button seems too long-
Can perseverance deter patience?
Maybe, the force of resistance,
Has been guillotined,
To the blow of flow.
Time, seems the only constant-
Change- an inaccessible consonant.
Questions trigger barriers,
Walls stand up as defenseless boundaries.
To penetrate and create a hole,
Needs courage and effort.
Tenacity lies wronged-
The inner scream lies ashamed-
Pent up to a tangible mess.
To sort out,
Would be to renew.
But, would the Flow,
Accept the perchance Glow?

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2 Comments on "Flow"

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Shabeeh Kamoonpuri

Beautifully worded.A beautiful poem indeed.I loved it.


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