Sometimes I like to write
In the middle of the night
And not worry whether
The rhythm is wrong or right.
Not everything I do
Can spring from fountains of genius,
From years of struggle and practice,
Not everything I say is beautiful or refined,
Or even kind.
I am a simple mind, a simple soul
Who yearns for goodness,
Who searches for greatness
But falls short, Time
after time,
after time.
Nov. 4, 2011
In the middle of the night
And not worry whether
The rhythm is wrong or right.
Not everything I do
Can spring from fountains of genius,
From years of struggle and practice,
Not everything I say is beautiful or refined,
Or even kind.
I am a simple mind, a simple soul
Who yearns for goodness,
Who searches for greatness
But falls short, Time
after time,
after time.
Nov. 4, 2011