In this abstracted state of reverie,
Detached from palpable reality,
Idly I dream and conjure, from somewhere
Mysterious, such visions as I’ll share.
My mission’s simply to abide and muse
Attending closely to what signs and clues
Emerge from vacancy nudging my pen
To transcribe what appears within my ken.
Something as arbitrary as a rhyme
Or metric beat will serve quite well to prime
The Pierian pump and make its waters spew,
Drawing fresh thoughts and images to view.
Call it a kind of worshiping or prayer,
An incantation to what shall be there.