A Poet's Burden

that mosaic of words,
a treasure trove of thoughts
that poem,
it is hiding
behind my eyelids
it appears when I sleep
or when I dream
but it walks away
and I have to keep up
chasing
till my breath runs out,
I try
reaching with both hands
because it wouldn't wait
and if I let it go,
it's gone forever
like a bubble popped,
like a wisp of smoke,
it is impatient
a shooting star it is
and sometimes I miss it
when I look away,
and I am weak;
should I resist
when I desire it most?
how I wish
that releasing it was the only duty
I have in the world,
so I wouldn't have to hurt
when I see it fading
without it being written down
and worshiped by another.