Waking the Muse from a Beautiful Distraction

A poem about grief and holding on to the past.

It was like my head was under water,
Struggling for air.
Black roses were on a vacant alter,
Hiding what's there.
Echo of a storm that once consumed me
as the Truth laid bare.
A whispering ghost chanting "Set it free"
wake from the nightmare.
Urging me to go with the flow, grow, let go and let god.
While I was confused by religions of God and what is not.

A union Combined from tattered rags of past selves.
The door was always open to these lies
these prison cells.
A vacuum clothed in the nothingness of what I had become.
A sea of sorrows was my treadmill that I was left to run.
I used memories as bullets and emotions as the loaded gun.
Aimed it at my own heart, selfishly like I was the only one.
Consumed by the demons, the ones I allowed to be real.
Like shackles and chains the lies I told myself to feel.

Finally my eyes opened to What I was doing with free will.
The grief was not a mountain it was just a small hill.
We all stand with the light shinning from the sun and its heat.
This light creates are shadow but The truth is it is at our feet.
We can't hide from this silhouette of our
physical form.
It's like a metaphor for the past and where shame is born.
But if we turn around and stop gazing at the shadow meant to lay behind.
There is A life full of a beautiful sunshine if we seek, we find.

We are more then the many seasons of past mistakes and loved ones lost.
We can soar with the many reasons that love makes with just a small cost.
The currency of happiness is forgiveness, a heart open to exchange.
The freedom of accepting, allowing, and letting go for a change.
We all are wealthy beyond measure with Trials, tests, and relation.
The choice is ours to focus on what we see in life's creation.
-Cory Harmon