art from google




Hoping …




There are times when I find myself in the abyss of lonesome despair,


when all seems empty, when I feel like a husk of a man, when I no longer care.



When the walls close in, around me and around my heart,


when I feel desolate, always separate, and of nothing ever a sliver of a part.



These moments do pass, as all moments must, and yet the void takes far too much time to fill,


an oil tanker spewing poison, a empty cup of tea impossible to refill.



When emotions are dulled, and the purpose of life is mulled, in a haze of self-pity,


when I am sliced and diced by this festering city.



When nothing seems to matter anymore,


when I fall into the cravasess, shredding me to my very core.



These intensely personal feelings are not easy to share,


yet the solace I find in my scribbles, makes the vacuum a bit easier to bear.



So I scribble away, never seeking sympathy, pity, nor friendly hugs or words of solace, however well-meaning they are all,


for I know I shall have to be the one to pick myself up when on this road I fall.



And as I strain my eyes and in the distance a dim light beckons me,


I crawl towards it, my sight blurry, but knowing it is the flame of hope that I see.



My path ahead is littered with thorns, jagged stones and the seemingly impossible obstacles I have to pass,


yet I continue on, towards the light, on my knees bruised, bleeding, cut raw by stinging sharp glass.



I finally stand up, my legs numb, while I drag my wounded form towards the now bright flame of hope,


reaching out to me as I reach out to it, the arduous journey having been a slippery slow slope.



Finally I reach the soft grasses of all-enveloping peace,


breaking free from the shackles, exhausted, though joyous as from the straightjacket I finally find release.



I stand up, no longer scrambling on my knees, seeking respite in the soothing coolness of nature’s breeze,


to feel whole again, under the canopy of the generous, green trees …





art from google









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