Cosmic Job

There's a strange 

Feeling that's 

Simmering on the

Tips of my fingers.

An unusual quiver

Passing beneath

My feet. 

I feel a layer of skin

Upon me and 

Someone is trying to

Break it free.

Looks like something

Is in wake. 

My pen wants me

To go on a ride.

A piece of paper

Must be praying

For its redemption

From the blank.

Cosmic forces may

Have chosen me

For the job..

To balance the

Equilibrium..

Let me write a

Line.