An abhanga It would seem I have found my 'i' in poetri, discovered symmetry 'tween prayer and verse.
A monotetra Verse comes in sheets of driving rain. Thoughts pitter-pat ceaseless refrain. Soaked through, my soul's washed clean of pain. Words keep me sane. Words keep me sane. While mind floats, buoyed by the flow, The heart absorbs what none can know. In foggy depths, rare insights glow. They're birthed just so. They're birthed… Continue reading Creation, or: Chaos