Block

So many wasted words go skittering
Out of my empty brain, and I am left
A pauper, weeping my own thoughtless theft
As all my former thoughts go twittering
Into the air, to fall, obscenely littering
The ground around me, while I, still bereft,
Plumb every dark crevass and deep-notched cleft
Within my mind to find one glittering
Idea. But I cannot see my way,
And fall, and fall, into my inner void
To be internally wholly destroyed
By emptiness, and nothing left to say.
But space is curved, and as I fall I rise
For lack of thought's itself a new surmise.