UNTIL ACTION IS BORN

I will go on writing
Until I make myself
Feel better- you said.
What a beautiful thing to say.

In stark reality,
That indeed, my dear,
Is why the nib of my pen
Day and night paints between the lines.

These words that I
Choose with disregard,
You say, bereave you.
And yet, no reactions derived.

Is that, I ask,
Indifference, then?
Because if it is,
I shall bereave until action is born.

I will hope patiently,
Committing inked felonies
That someday, perhaps,
The ink smears and seeps within.

-K.G.