Learning to Write...Again

I am prepared

to experience

joy with pain,

success via failure.

My mind is opening up

to creative vibes,

my muse is beckoned

once again.

I long for

that euphoric climax

when a new poem

is born,

yet I fear a block

which prevents any thoughts

from becoming

alive.

Write! Ignore all obstacles

which stop my passion

from existing.

Think outside the box.

Listen.

Feel.

My heart will guide

inspirations into

words.

And through it all,

I will learn

to write again.

Limits

An endless view,

wispy clouds interlaced

with majestic blues.

Everyday I gaze up,

telling myself that I am looking

at the only limit

which exists.

Thank you, from my own two feet

Under my blanket

of darkness,

your whispering voice

reached deep into

this tortured soul.

Your resolve,

holding me in love's embrace,

kept me warm.

That tender caress,

offered unconditionally,

slowly drew back

coverings of self-loathing.

A prayer offered up,

amidst tears of anguish,

answered in a love

only you can provide.

You only offered

encouragement.

That is what I needed.

No judgement or rebuke.

You had no

'easy fixes'.

As I lie

in gloomy shadows,

your soft touch

cooled my burning skin.

I fell from a confident perch,

remaining prostrated

beyond the light.

But you...

you became

my strength

my words

that song which lent power

to my weakened mind.

You are my everything.

You gave the desire to stand

on my own two feet.

Thank you.

Through Closed Eyes

Worry not

for me,

I will be fine.

Look not upon my frailties

as something I

control,

or my weaknesses as

choice.

No one is in a position

to judge,

we all hide something.

I chose to admit

I cannot swim against

currents of despondency.

I have revealed a part of me

which might have remained

buried.

A struggle of mind,

at times there is

no hope for

tomorrow.

My false exterior

has faded,

a heart is laid bare

for all to see.

I hope you understand,

or at the very least

don't judge.

There is no room

for black and white

in a technicolor world.

Please do not worry.

And please don't look

at me

through closed eyes.

Hidden

A childhood favorite becomes

something with

an entirely different

meaning.

    (count to 10

        then try to find me)

Today, yesterday

tomorrow

it has become

a game for one.

    (8...9...10! Ready or not,

         not one is coming.)

Nobody gets close

in this solitary

game.

Feelings and thoughts

are well disguised,

only slightly revealed

through cracks in the wall.

    (Where are you?

         Where did you go?)

Sequestered by failings,

inadequacy paints a veneer of

confidence

self esteem

vibrancy.

None of it exists.

    (Are you still playing?)

This childhood game

is renamed, redefined.

For if anybody seeks,

I shall remain

hidden.