the writer

How can I write neither sad nor depressed
That is the gift with which I am blessed
To be cursed with good rhyme as cursed by mind
Free-falling thoughts, from brain, sans rind

Thoughtless pieces constitute the piece
That, unfortunate, has failed to cease
No salvation in doing forsakes doing
No search of satisfaction in such lack of cueing

Depressed by my own lack o’ ‘pression
‘t is cruel, I know, to seek such session
Perchance to write, to dream while glad
Will find me in the heavens clad