Never and always the same,
The Divine Hand,
Inspiring written words
Through stirrings deep within
Guides the flesh with
The ego to emote, explain, express.
However the fingers
On the keyboard
May be driven to it
Their impact upon them is randomized
By egotistical asymmetry –
We think, therefore we are:
Idiosyncratically not so bright.
While typing far into the night
Lubricated with a glass of ale or three
I somehow highlighted everything
Then pressed the “Backspace” key.
So slipped away my poetry.
Where did it go?
Do I know.
Back into the ether
From whither and whence it came.