Chains of Memories

Living in the moment with a spark of passion

can bind you to chains in a similar fashion.

Instantly dragged to the depths of beliefs

your past was determined to keep.

Plunged into oceans where you attempted

to drown the eyes of who you lamented

when you exposed a rare vulnerability

wishing those eyes embraced you gently.

From a mirror came the cruelest stare

with murderous intent and no intent to spare

Even though you survived every self-assault;

Your scars still whisper, “It’s all your fault.”

If the chains start to give in the moment when

the spark of passion burns your hands,

rather than smother your conjuring light,

bring the chains to the spark ’til they glow bright.

Let the spark catch that idea once more,

melt the chains until they become your ore.

This creative process will clear your vision;

You’ll finally see that self-made prison.

Then you’ll be tempted to burn it all,

to burn down every suffocating wall.

Just spare that cruel stare of yours.

Spare the place where inspiration soars.

Living in the moment with a pull from the past

is a strange and gut-wrenching whiplash

that grips like chains, but can settle down

into a practice you’ll wish you sooner found.

Because a spark doesn’t come from nowhere.

It’s often born from the pain you spared.

How else can one spark creatively

if we ignore all the possibilities

born from the chains of memories?