Who did that to my desk?

My desk is piled high.
Who did that?
Who put all those papers on there;
big ones and little ones and others
with scribbles all over them.
And who's going to get them off?
I'd like the space again.

I need space to think, to breath.
Isn't that the same thing?

To breath is to pray.
To pray is to love.
To love is to live.
To live is to breath.
To breath is to think.
Here we are back to me needing desk space.

I can discern "system" in the piles.
Those papers are only printed on one side.
I can use the other side for proofs or articles-to-go.
Those papers need to go to someone else.
When? How? Do they want them?

That one tells me when I'm supposed to speak and where.
Yep, it even tells me the direction of the talk.
Can't lose that paper. Where to put it?

That paper tells me I gotta do something
before something else expires.
So do it! Now! No, I'd rather blog.

Those papers want to be sent to my friends
with notes that connect our hearts.
That'll take time.
So they wait; the papers and the friends
and the desk.