Climax

A personal catharsis

Awaits trembling fingers,

And release is imminent

While it lingers,

Though never permanent.

-

Firm strokes,

Scratches of need

Alternate on blank space

Paying no heed

To the frenzied pace.

-

A building of sensation,

A numbing tingle stirs

Once idle fragments –

Now prone nerves

Listlessly waiting to be spent.

-

And then – gliding –

A cessation:

An overflowing explosion

Of mind and spirit

In release of tension.

-

Satisfied toes curl as the poem is writ.