Quivering ground, dancing at my feet
jiggles to and fro with unrest
remaining unsettled, never finding its calm
a great mirror of my self
oh, that quaking of life penetrating
striking deep to a forgotten center
sharp! hard! a great “prick” I feel
a stab at the marrow that breathes
unrelenting, it gives no rest
I’m so exhausted . . . so tired . . .
give me rest!
(This non-rhyming descriptive reflections was intended to describe, in a descriptive way, how I felt the day I wrote it. It refers to how I feel a doubt about things which causes an uneasiness in me, a ‘great quaking’.)