A Small Glass Jar

I'm always aiming to write
The perfect words for a perfect poem
A poetry that speaks not only of -
Disjointed words, and flowerly rhymes,
I do not write for pennies and dimes.
Poetry should never be a chore,
Not something we can force out of us,
It's not something we should work for.
Like now, currently, I am lying in bed,
The shroud of nightime is around me
And silence drums within my ears
As the household sleeps, my mind awakes.
It's the heart that I want to portray,
To paint with phrases it can only beat.
Of feelings bitter, and feelings sweet.
My palette, a thousand colours,
And my canvas is a sea of white.
I write to capture emotions,
To place them proudly on display,
In a small glass jar sealed tightly,
Protected from the dust that I fear will gather,
If I stop looking for inspiration,
If I stop searching for the answer.
I write to stop the mist of idleness from spreading,
From eating me up from within.
Either that, or I write for the delicate delicacies
Of everyday life, the simple things
That you, I, we tend to always ignore;
Like the slightest emerald of oak leaves
When morning sunshine filters through them,
Creating that perfect autumn hue.
I write to remember December memories,
Those that slip from my mind too easily,
There's a magic that comes with looking back
On a single moment caught between the lines
Of a narritive messily written in a notebook that you carry,
From place to place, from time to time.
I write to figure out my thoughts,
To organise my ideas,
To distinguish the path to take.
Then I write to record my journey
As I continue to tip toe on,
I write to remember how much my feet had hurt,
And how rocky the road had been,
Yet writing about the Garden of Eden,
Is perhaps the best reason of all
It's all about reaching the end,
The mirage that turned out to be true,
And the dream that I longed to meet...
I write for the places I am yet to find
For the people I am yet to know
I write for everything
And I write for anything,
For family, friends
I write for reaching home,
And sometimes,
If I allow it
I even write for you
But most of all,
I forget all else
And I simply write for me.