Fluttering

Somewhere inside,
beneath the noise
of to do’s, or regrets,
buried so deep,
that I disbelieve
it exists, and yet…

there it is –
pulsating in sleep,
disrupting idle moments –
a hum, a breeze, a niggling,
as if I’ve trapped passion,
like a firefly, jarred it
in some inner cellar…

and still, it glows –
begs for the light of day,
a slit in consciousness
through which to escape –
inspiration demanding
expression.

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