Questions in the dark

An old poem I seem to find over and over again. Apparently it wanted to be published.

Contentment asked for

But never believed

Happiness required

But never received

The days are dreary

The nights so long

Where Oh where

Did we go so wrong

How many times

Must we punish ourselves

The pain is useless

Focus is erring

Feeling is fleeting

The lights grow dim

The dark grows light

We poison our minds

But by what right

An angel appears

Questioning

As angels do

The devil shall grin

And win

As devils surely do

Life is a sham

Hope a forgotten love

Depression holds the key

The only way out

Is to lock yourself in

The mind hates

The body loves

The heart shakes

A sign from above

Reviews

[Red Brick Keshner]

I see and feel why this has appeared and presented itself time and time again. It also appears to lend itself to music. We all live under signs from above!

[VALORMORE DE PLUME]

This poem, rightly resurfaces to call for publication. For it was born from the womb of your muse. By that I mean; there is a place inside each of us where our, physical being and waking consciousness, intersects with our etherical eternal soul which possesses a greater perspective of space and time. This is the same place we cross the threshold between sleep and wakefulness. Dreams, are but a glimpse into the other side, interpreted by our shallow waking minds. Our muse, my friend, lives on the other side. If we are attentive, the muse visits more often. For the muse crosses the threshold with ease.

[Dante Carlisle]

That's the trick isn't it. Learning to listen when the Muse visits us. It isn't so much that the muse visits more often. I believe the muse is visiting us nearly constantly, but too often we're distracted and can't bring ourselves to listen. Being mindful of those moments it chooses to reveal itself is all of the trick.

[VALORMORE DE PLUME]

The muse can be fickle, withholding its nudge at times. When our ego is dominating, the muse sits back giggling.