Here in my little country bubble, I am surrounded with people who simply do not understand my desire to write. Whether they get read or not, I write because I have to. I have journals and notebooks from the age of ten to prove it. When I don’t write…I shrivel up and start to doubt not just me but the world in general. When I do write, I work it out, I settle the great debates, and I choose to keep going. When I don’t write, even the people who don’t understand my compulsion notice…I get messed up, my thoughts aren’t clear. They don’t know I’m not writing, but they notice. So, it is with a huge thank you to you readers who DO understand, who share my compulsion, that I offer up this piece, for better or for worse. And it is an even bigger thank you I offer to OpenLinkNight and dVersePoets for bringing us driven souls together. Write on Poets…we need you now more than ever!
Darkness invites me, the mystery,
I think I’ve no need to hide, to cower.
What I cannot see cannot hurt me
or so I have foolishly been lead to believe.
Ingesting the black, swallowing air
it thickens, the darkness swells
taking over…who I thought was me
The eternal mystery
Salvation waits not
at my door
Universes rise at my command
Visions within the black
As suddenly the eye I have never owned
Opens to potentiality
Nightmares race as kingdoms topple
A history of anarchy
As our true gods remain forgotten
For the sake of selfish endeavors
And tumultuous fortunes
And my conditioning forces me to run
Not realizing, I race away
From the self I had forgotten
Because that was what I was told to do
Stabbing quills puncture skin
Fueling ancient, wicket pen
And like the hero that never was
I rise to face it
Feather tipped, bloody whip
My fist clenches
And I allow his embrace
Feeding the need
Driving the passion
Cold yet burning
And suddenly empowered
I can finally hear them
And in constant silence
I laugh out loud
And like the greatest symphony
and let my demon sing.
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