Thursday, June 13, 2019

A willing Muse...





Sadness is a willing muse.  

The words flow easily from pain like a fresh wound.

I'm not who I was but the comfort of his prison still beckons.

How easy to retreat to my own exile.

How comfortable the lie of a well-worn facade.

How terrifying to leave behind the cage forged in my mind.

The comfort of resignation.   The solace of denial.

The wages of despair from the toil of a fool.

Time to change my occupation.

Time to stop hedging bets never placed.

Time to practice what we preach.

I'm open to the world, I ask nothing but its performance.

Throw away the scales, love isn't measured, it's given.

The connection is there it asks nothing but to be.

It demands nothing but your attention.

The night sky, cold void or open window.

I see the light not the darkness now.  

I seek only what is given.

I demand nothing and delight in everything.

The door closes behind as I step through.  

Nothing behind serves anymore save the lessons that brought me here.

Each day is it's own, each embrace the first.

I will be that which I want to see.

...and I will no longer be alone.





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