I am but an open journal
Still waiting for a discovery,
Empty pages within to drift.
Desiring to feel your warmth upon
The black leather that binds me.
The soft caress of the wisdom
Of velvety words for kissing.
Left drifting in the breeze
A melody without notes.
For my love affair with words
That dance through futuristic
Pages of time.
I am the tender sweetness like sugar
Of my yearning soul
With dreams yet to come alive.
I cry out to you awaiting your thoughts
Your desires, glimpses of your personality
Passions quilled upon the lines of my sculpted mold.
Yet I am but a baby naked, blowing empty
Pages Into the ebony starlit night.
Cold and alone, not a letter insight
No scribbles of rainbows ink
Splattered upon my virgin parchment.
No stories to pass on in time.
I am awaiting the screaming orgasm of
My birthing into a new world
With visions and images that
Tower over me setting me free
No longer a virgin of words
Born again with pen in hand.
Pastel Colors of the wheel splattered
Upon my emptiness here within my mind.
I am but a thought away,
The history I’ve come from
The present I am living within
The future I have yet to see.
Just a visionary imagined or not,
I am the poet!
© Eva Marie Cagley
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