IT CAME TO ME


It came to me, while sitting quietly,
A gift of thought that would not otherwise
Have sprung to mind or found its way to be,
And only through such quiet could arise.

Which is why I sit regularly to scan
The dim horizon of my brooding mind
To see what thoughts may hatch and, if I can,
Turn them to words with sound and sense aligned.

It came to me from who knows what abyss
Of seeming nothingness, subconscious void,
And yet the source of insight and of bliss
(To better know, I’ll study Jung and Freud).

Meanwhile, I’ll posit that some kindly Muse
Brings me each morning such delightful news.

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