Of Roosters and Linux and Monster and Emptiness

     This morning, when the first wake came to my eyes and my Rose stirred for what to wear, when the coffee's brew rattled its grounds and the roosters of traffic crowed and the early whispers of the sun shown in, I awoke and reached out to my Rose in the room.

     This morning, when my hands held coffee and a Monster, when my son and I talked of Linux and php and AMD and security, and after, found failure, when I looked at the pages of Facebook and gmail and Matt Drudge and NPR, I began my climb down into my own crowded room of despair.

     The afternoon, when I read about writing down words and football and bloggers and finished my Monster and coffee and water, when discussions of cliché and syntax and God-Haters filled my thoughts, there was little room left for thoughts my own.

     This afternoon, when I turned open the shades and put on a new sweater, when picking up this page and pencil and how to, I then wandered from room to room to the back yard and in, in search of a place of belonging, some place to begin.

     This evening, when reaching the end of my wander, it has been found and the weariness of all else spins away from me; then it is when I find an emptiness, both needful and sad, I awake, here, and there is little to be said.