Mesmerized

Maybe all it was,was a bygone fixation,

to write ,to put it in ink, in print.

And if it was, 

i did not give way,

For poetry should come,

Only when poetry wills to come. 

You will understand this,

almost a year I have been away.

from The words,

from unfinished sentences,

in the middle of a conversation.

I have treasured it,

treasured it all. 

For something big, 

for something so unhewn and pure

To flow

From heart to tired fingers

From tired fingers to strange eyes

To strange eyes, and leave them, mesmerized.