A Commissioned Poem by Ethan Christ Wrens of Georgia
Quoted (with permission) from the Poetic Money Website
My mind mysteriously works, to fill the void inside
To untwist logic, reason, doubt, it does it all the time
If I could see, what I will be, I’d write it down the line
It’s learning to write, not jumbling words, that makes this art’s design.
The basis of reality, is that communication exists
The fact the world is spinning fast, while we’re all still, we sit
On top of that there’s more to life, it’s all just fun and games
Until you come out from that cave, that place, your mind, your grave
Let me teach you of the ways, that I have learned to speak
To write, and laugh and love and hold, then pass it on again
I’ll let you try to learn to write, to hold a pen in hand
To mark the paper to and fro, then twist it all and blend
Teach me to write, to write like you, teach me I want to learn
You’ll learn in time, as we move along, you’ll write for what you yearn
Of everything that happened then, and all that will come next
You’ll think it out and then, perplexed, your words become a vex
An onset thought of subtly, a sudden thought of doubt
A double take, to take it all, and everything falls out
You’ve learned the ways that words are wrote, the flowing breeze of them.
You’ve learned to write much better now, more so than I can.
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