On His Knees Poem by Jackie Allen

Who among you hath not thrown up his hands?
Kneeled upon the ground? Pounded on chest, prayed?
Hath not the rains come down from the heavens?
Hath not jewels continued to shine?

Weary and in need of inspiration
seeking respite, an old man of letters
found little solace in lines, in words...rare
the days they arrived when needed.

Doth not the evening merit a cool breeze?
There’s one swishing her skirts, a vision...she
singing nonsense, tripping over the moon.
A tune that dances with the sun.

Delight. Insight. Heart rising with desire.
A blossoming of curiosity.
In his grasp, like bread, cheese, fruit and sweet wine.
A taste of anticipation.

Wet lips. Breath caught. A debate, detection.
Relief. The strangest pleasure. Eyes opened,
depression lifted. Passion perfected.
So unreal it must be a dream.

Overflowing like a river, the words.
The paper, his pen feverishly lined.
A newness of purpose. Ah...mystery...
the beauty of inspiration.