Five to Go

At the precipice of my mind,
these words do I dangle.
Will the fog of this grey matter
uproot and untangle

the block that prevailed to this day?

Or will, once again, the matters at hand
have their underhanded way?

Much to say and plenty of time,
though not but a second to delay...
Well, rather five.
Five instants and it all goes away...

So onward I write,
and onward I type,
and the pauses though briefer,
come at a higher cost.

The expected value of the poetry lost,
is measured by time,
but also in rhyme,
or not...

For a lump of purple
after all,
may as well be an empty page...
prose without purpose.

Churned without a compass,
north in south and west in the east.
Lost asea,
adrift within me.

Yet held in suspense,
for four precious ticks,
and not a tick longer,
for it is my verse that I love.

I care not of the viewer.
I am a fraud in that way,
A flagrant fan of my own accord.
Narcissus on a sunny day.

I am the shimmer in the water,
that I have come to adore.

Made humble only
with the passage of time.
And the peace that I find
for four seconds more.