Eve of What?...

Turn for a moment
     and the Vision is gone;
     though Memory remains,
     this,
     in the moments after,
     is what tells the Tale...
Trying in a hurried scrawl
     to write it down before
     he forgets it all,
     as he hears it,
     as he writes it down,
     in the cadence,
     in some kind of trance, it seems,
     as words flow
     without a moment's thought
     and within minutes
     a poem
     (for lack of better word)
     is born,
     or is it borne
     upon Messenger's shoulders,
     stooped and tired,
     to be left at your doorstep
     as he peers
     from behind a boulder?...
Not easy to express
     when you don't know
     what it is you're feeling;
     does ennui say it best?...
Harder still to share
     in the hopes someone understands
     and explains my words,
     slowly,
     to me...
          Dec. 31, 2014