Creativity Silenced…

 

Fragile is the breath of heaven,

voices float upon the winds,

angels feeding our hearts with

words to quench our thirst.

Earth in its glory, flowers created

from God’s pallet of colors, inhale

their fragrance, yes that is God.

As one drink’s from the chalice of

depression, loneliness, and

heartbreak the spirit rides a vessel

of deathless wrath; drained is the

energy of the living body.

Disparaged thoughts fill the blank

page, the poet a slave to doubt,

sentenced to wander forever through

waking or dreaming hours with a feeble

hand moving slowly across vast nothingness.

Thoughts hide in the shadows, frailness

lingers as golden beams of creations falls

into darkness; from sea to mountain top,

bravery gone, and grace and genius meld

with emptiness.

Will there be a sunrise, will imagination and

creativity bloom in the light of desire; or will

imagery sleep in silence waiting for the

reminiscence of the creative words to return

giving hope and a new beginning.

 

©2013.annjohnsonmurphree