I Can’t

I can’t write about the darkness that my light cannot see

I can’t write all of the possibilities that don’t exist for me

I’ll write what little truth I’ve gathered on this walk

but I can’t write about the key as I stare into the lock.

I can’t write about the shadows that dance just out of reach

I can’t write of all the mysteries that others stand and preach

I’ll write about a fact if I can just nail it down

but I can’t write about a smile as I sit here with a frown.

I can’t write about the sea as I stand on firm dry ground

I can’t write of all the colors while listening for sound

I’ll write about a moment once my measurement is done

but I can’t write about the moon while I’m blinded by the sun.

I can’t write about the end while I get lost along the way

I can’t write of all the work when I’m engaged in play

I’ll write the words I’m given if my hand will just behave

but I can’t write about my freedom while I’m stuck here as a slave.