Poor memory
I pause to think.
a second too late and the opportunity; gone.
that fate might allow a genius to slip, the slip of a genius;
the world's fate amiss.
and tired my eyes fall heavy in sleep,
desperate in dream to
recover a loss, to reinvent myth.
but I'll never know since the feeling is gone, the thought long grown stale
the mind numbing sensory;
time so elapsed
that the careless mistake is a painless defeat,
a mistake nonwithstanding.
I once had a thought, once had a dream
but now, just poor memory.
Guide that inspired this poem: