I have been hard pressed- trying to be my best. And in the process, lost all rest.
Broken, storms erect a wall. Weak, utterly confused. Silent. The drums ever louder, marching to the beats, painful echoes I repeat. What is heard?
Look up! vultures. Masses circle, tease desires. Grotesque in cue. Addressed invitations to the vile.
Quiet! Please be still, my heart. Stop and play with me?
No, sings the chorus. Feeling satisfaction, cloaked with power. Cuts deep. Power turns me on my head. Destroys what life remains, up ahead. Drains the blood.
The world drives me insane. I attempt to love it back. Erect it, place it back in orbit. Black. Not one person hears. Silently whispering. We fade.
Musings Poetry counsel dreamscapes forgiveness grace healing hope journey life listening well love meaning of life mental well-being my promise garden peace prayer Ravel's Bolero suffering this writing life who am I