the day drones on humming like
the monotone of a tuning fork
a clock ticks slow somewhere
that clocks still actually tick
and the afternoon scrapes on
without a grease of a care

let's get to the end of it
i feel so cubed in here behind
drab business fabric walls
that time discretely slices
a million light years apart

contemplate the time and wait
for the workday to terminate
if only for today so i can
release my soul to the air
flying my sonic imagination

high away from procedures
and scintilla of policies
through canyons of colors
to rise like leavened bread
and grow into something holy

there is much of life's water
slipping past my boat, spoons,
buckets, oceans of life, of days
with names that i don't know
that somehow feel my presence

i run to the ramparts of the day
jump over the stones and flee
a spirited dash to the forest
my chains clanking in the dirt
a melodious tinkling sound

© agoodguy2have 2010-04-23