that enables those who write for pleasure or for gain,
to reconcile each action outwith this simple ethos,
permitting a breath, caught in wonder, to remain.
Our fingers, tapping, can bring to life fragile thoughts,
pause again while they rise as soft grey smoke, then fade.
We feel frustration when we cannot keep these forms,
captured inside the many, varied worlds we've made.
Though by the act of grasping tightly, holding on,
we nullify the contemplative space we need.
The smoke descends, not light but thick and smothering
thereby allowing negativity to breed.
That space within is ours to gently mold and meld.
In turn we shape and solidify the space without.
Our thoughts can eddy, lap the shore then dissipate
allowing positivity to flow throughout.