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When the Pen runs dry

when the pen runs dry and the call to Muse is canceled by indifference the return is slow
each word squeezed of juicethe only way to grasp the magic is to toll in the stony fields among the rustic ruins of struggle hoping the voice returnsand fingers fly to keep pace

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Renewal

The mirror shattered with my heart,
as long nights alone swept past me
and the promise of the kiss died
in a blaze of futility.

There is a new mirror before me,
and my grip on reality grows thin
as hope drops me into the sea
and I swim, swim, and swim again.

Tell me now:

"It is never too late to hear
that love has not yet died
before it had a chance to sway
under the passionate embrace.

"It is never too late, again,
this day, as it was years ago
when our lips could not feel
the pulse under our flesh."

I choose to believe in you, now.

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