tsf36

In poetry, Uncategorized on March 27, 2014 at 2:29 pm

                                   OUT OF THE DARK

 Many times I put pen to paper, in an effort to cope with your passing.

I tried to be brilliantly poetic and lyrical when I was writing about you.

I wanted all my love and sorrow to flow onto the page with beauty and artistic brilliance.

As a writer I felt that such great emotional anguish would certainly translate easily into verse.

What an absolutely arrogant thought for me to have.

I sat at my desk for hours on end.

Lost and broken no beauty or brilliance came.

I looked down and there was only empty pages stained with tears

What can come from a writer with no words or an artist that can’t create?

 Surly nothing worthwhile could ever come of it.

I sat in the dark alone and despondent listening to the deafening silence.

 Then like a whisper from heaven I heard a voice. A breeze came through the room, brushed my hand and whispered in my ear, Pick up your pen. Like the breeze itself was moving me, I grabbed my paper and started to write.

I wrote as if I was under a spell, never even looking at the paper.

 My fingers became numb as I wrote through the night.

Line after line and page after page, it had fluidity, passion, brilliance. It was more than I thought I was capable of.

I wrote about things I had never known I could write about. I kept on writing until I had nothing more in me.

I looked at what I had written and I realized I hadn’t written about you at all, though you were in every line. You were on every page.

 I didn’t write about my pain, though I am certain it was what pushed my pen across the page.

What a priceless gift I had been given, triumph through tears.

The ability to create some beautiful from such tremendous despair

 

 Just like in life I felt you cheering me on and believing in me, supporting me and being proud of me.

 I now can see that I can show my love and gratitude not by tearful poetry, but by making you proud. With my pen in hand you can remain with me always.

 You will be every hero I ever write about. All the beautiful women I describe will be you. Together   we will see the world and travel through time in the storied I have yet to write.

 I am only bound by my imagination and that is limitless. I can be all that you had hoped . I already am. In those thoughts I find solace.

 The loss that I feel is not as great as the love I carry with me forever. In that reality there is Brilliance, beauty and lyrical poetry.

Hope you all liked it

TS

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