London Poem: Day 191

24 February

Slipping between idle progress,
And the great unknown, there is
No advancing and stuttering regression.
Words come, and they go,
Taking no shape as they fall in random
To eat at nothing, to build less.
Moving swiftly, swelling and dipping
To follow a path and ignore it
In one go. Choosing to work in slowness,
The forgetting allows the
Void to still feel near.

Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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