Happy Ending

Sometimes I'll begin a sentence,
while blind to its destination.
The words may flow but with nowhere to go...
it's a mental masturbation.

With thoughts stroked into a rhythm,
my mind begins to wander.
Though juxtaposed, my consciousness grows...
and its voice my fingers do conjure.

My pupils constrict; my heartbeat races.
Thrust after thrust, my keyboard braces.
As the beauty within turns to letters and spaces.
Hands...fingers...they all know their places!!

...

Poetry saves what the soul erases.