Tonight again you set out to write
But the page still yawns before you.
Nothing works and you can tell
That every mark you make is wrong.
But then somehow your lungs discern
Within the enveloping everyday air
A more vital new oxygen.
You inhale – it fills you.
Oh yes, you were born to be a vessel,
To cradle the sky itself within you
For one impossibly pregnant moment.
You can see its glow beneath your skin.
Your fingers begin to tingle,
Your heart quickens its cadence,
Your scalp tightens around your skull.
And now – the words come.