On the white screen dance the stringed dots
Mind spilled codes of hieroglyphic thoughts
Slowly they emerge handholding lines
Not always yielding intended designs.
Something was brewing inside the head
Coaxing to weave and take it ahead
The drunken horses so wildly gallop
There is no leash to make them stop.
Nerves are taut and they won't relax
Till all is vented they reach the ******
It was thus fated the moment it was sown
What's to be grown could never be known.
As the fever wanes arrives the new child
It may be adored or it may be defiled
The canvas is washed clean as in the rain
Something is brewing to be vented again.

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In the darkest gloom,
A mother's love is a spark,
It illuminates and blooms,
It  gives us a dash of hope,
and guides like a loom,
It wraps around tenderly,
a gift given straight from the womb.

Some feelings are shallow, some feelings are deep.
Some make us smile, some make us weep.

Some we love, some we don't.
Some we'll savor, some we won't.

Some grounding, some uplifting,
Some long-lasting, some constantly shifting.

No matter what feelings I'm feeling today,
I know tomorrow is only a day away.