Thinking in stanzas

I've started thinking in stanzas lately.

There are some mornings when I arrive at the station, breathless, blood-pumping through my veins after my 12 minute power-walk up hill, then I stop for a moment, surrounded by a crowd of commuters, and look up at the sky.

And wonder.

Wonder why it doesn't seem so awesome anymore. Not like it did when I was little and wide-eyed and full of wonder at what could be up there and beyond...

My perspective is so different now, a jaded worry about the lack of ozone we have to protect us compared to decades gone by, worry about global warming, my imagination already stroked by the likes of Star Trek Voyager, Babylon 5, StarGate SG1 and other sci-fi shows that have explored space and imagined what could be out there.

I dunno...that sense of awe is now masked with something else... like my mind is masked with a "Been there, imagined that, worried about this... nah, the sky's not so awesome anymore... more of a a lid on all the other stuff we're screwing up down here...".

Geez, when did I ever get so jaded? Worrying, but interesting...

And then my mind flies elsewhere, and I wonder if I can get these thoughts into stanza form, could I perform this, out there on the stage, at the poetry cafe, at a poetry slam? Could I? Could I brazenly stand up and do a piece about the love of a woman, the love of her touch, her scent, her essence, her being. Just her?

Could I?

I guess I could only but try...