Shadow of the Preserver

Radiant colors of Gaea's bouquet,

absent of sorrow's exhaled decay.

Splendor on this late midsummer's day -

a day that I pray would go away.

How can I aptly express,

in words that do not inflict duress,

the weights upon my heart that press

and fears that my addled mind's obsessed?

I doubt I'd ever find the words

in a combination no one had ever heard.

Describing these feelings within me stirred,

in a way that was anything but absurd.

But I'll use these humble lines to explore

thoughts my timid soul wants to implore.

This isolation I feel is but a metaphor

for the hollow insignificance of wanting more.

My heart says its not enough just to write.

It longs to know a rather selfish delight.

Some promise my presence here wasn't a blight.

That whomever decided I should exist might be right.

Author's Note

I spent all morning today in a poor mood, and I had no idea why. I stared at my notebook, trying to work on my novel, trying to write a poem - hell I even tried to work on my ACTUAL homework! (My, what a terrible fate indeed!)

Eventually, after fighting it all morning, this just came out in a a process I'd describe more akin to a waterfall than a faucet's trickle. I dunno why, I thought I'd been having a pretty decent go of it lately. Sometimes these things just lie dormant until you least expect them, I guess.

Reviews

[Nolo Segundo]

The poem is pretty good,but that last line is a knockout: "That who(m)ever decided I should exist might be right'' What thinking, self-examining person has not wondered about that at some time?

[Sazaku]

A variation of that line has probably inspired more creativity, in some form or another, than any other concept in history. I sometimes wonder if it's an aspect of the creative to feel compelled to question their purpose, or if questions like those are what drive one unto the creative world.

There's probably another poem buried in that dilemma somewhere. Food for another day. Thanks for the review.