Dry Spell

The dryness of me
The foulness of moist air
Several trips to the earth
Each time with sectional dislodges of calm
Quaking in surrender
Yielding to restrain
Like I will waste if I wait
Maybe it’s a test if I take.
But in seven days, new weeks birth
Counts,
Patiently incarnates into months.
It’s a trivia,
Sections of me that seek for reprise
How far I must have wandered in fright
Crouching, chasing
The silhouette of my shadow
Footsteps of the sun briskly approaching
Then, Hush! The air breathes swiftly
Now, Hurriedly I must retreat to solace
To where the light can hide me
So at night I am a star.

©jan2008-Ub m.

Prologue
Stanley (http://un-coded.blogspot.com/2007/12/un-coded.html) literally pushed me to do this one even though I was dry like the pre-rainfall air. I barely chat with him about anything and don’t have the inspiration to scribble things, sometime absolutely un-related to what we are chatting about. Eventually I’ll only need dedication.
I have gone out of my shell to write materials that surprise me when I go through it again. This crazy man is the devil, the good one; he absolutely has no idea what he means to me.