Sometimes a great notion,
Overflows me like an ocean.
Puts my mind in motion,
Toward which I steer.
Soon that first small token,
Grows though unspoken,
Until the spell is broken,
And the goal draws near.
And then the rules are changed,
My comfort gets rearranged,
I am on my own, estranged.
And meet my greatest fear.
The great wheel of emotion,
Spins my mind like potion.
Until that once great notion,
I once held so dear.
Is dashed upon the rocks of reason,
Trammeled by the tracks of treason,
Puddled into pretty poison,
While I stand by so clear.
To pick up the pieces shattered,
Of all that ever mattered,
And piece together tattered.
The notion of the year.
Copyright 2002 © Ronald W. Hull
11/9/02
Photo: Spirit of the North
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