Death of Inspiration

Inspired by the wells in the depth of my soul I sing…

Elated and frustrated by the pretentiousness of my own being I tend to become mute…

Wrapping myself in the oblivion we face daily…

Season upon season...

Showers of praise fall upon deaf ears as my essence is engulfed by the serendipitous pitter patter of little feet...

Drumming across my forehead as I gaze, skyward...

Dancing as though released from torments freshly engrained...

Rhythmically reminding me of how futile the impressions of my mind truly are...

Daily I see the instantaneous flashes of dark and light...

Both striving for my attention...

Each attempting to lure me...

Fishing for the instant gratifications this world has made me a victim of...

My own hopes and dreams...

Dreams for a better tomorrow, hopes that seem to be born dead...

Like a still birth in a mother’s womb, I weep incessantly...

Do you know how it feels to have your insides torn from you?

To have life removed from your bowels...

As though its significance reflects a fruit fly’s intelligence…

Time, energy, effort...

Regale my mind as I look upon the corpse of such beauty…

Thoughts and dreams…

Thoughts and dreams…

Lost and found...

Inspired yet bound….