A small poem

The ebony letters
Aligned perfectly on the screen
Now ecstatic and full of life
As they fly to the left

Eyes seeing but not gathering
Reading but not understanding
Lost in thought
Or is it a loss of thought

Glimpse an old memory
Or realise a sudden truth
So inconsequential and vague
These small letters are

The end goal
What is it?
The work put in today
Tomorrow forgotten

Suddenly I wake up
To a loss of control
A control of what I see
What I hear
What I feel

The light burns on the outside
But the hollow remains on the inside just echo
There is no calm
There is no structure