Plain Paper

 

plain paper listened
to the pen inscribing its melancholy
tracing well worn tracks
of doubt and tears, fears,
well worn paths in regret
heavy wheels leaving
dark
deep chasms
seemingly inescapable
and a singularity

light strains to enter
where it isn’t wanted
now seen for its truth
pouring forth on former trees

freed from a polite prision,
speaking loudly of concern
self-indulgence finally shown
elsewhere, revealed
again
telling tall tortuous tales
the pleasure all their own
in discovering a voice heard