Prose Poem the Poets Lot

Reality dawns in my mind,a thrread that runs through reason,a repository and reference point in imagination’s flight. Seeing what’s there to see,that single tree in the forest of my mind’s eye.This defining moment where innerfeelings fly free.Seeing things as they really are,sharing the intimate every ready to explore the pathos of things with a blaze of words and wordless lines.Who will deliver me from this lonely path,talking to the poetic deaf.I write to please myself,to corner a niche or an accolade,fly free of this daily toil a loud voice within the clamour of the crowd.T’was ever thus