Under the Green Desk Lamp…
The minutes crawl, meandering mindlessly by,
as the mind mulls on myopic miseries.
Minutiae distracting—malicious in its mediocrity,
as merciless minions of misgivings muddy the waters.
But where the muse, whose music brings meaning?
When weaning from mundanity we writhe,
then written on the walls is the wonder of her witchcraft.
Who mollifies the weary and meddles with our worry.
Myriad memories are woven in her menagerie.
Where many malevolent mental blocks
are withdrawn and mended into that
magical mess of which they were wrought.
The who’s and the where’s and the why’s and the when’s,
writing we wrestle them while we still can.
It’s merely a moment, a miraculous wash
but wading unworried we’ll master the world.
-Brad OH Inc.