Muse

Buzzing body’s fill vacant space,
emptiness recoils in agony,
blown free…

These sparks ignite ashes,
returning from dead coals,
revitalizing stagnation.

Doubt looms,
over this darkened heart
filled with light.

This sad creature
given form once more,
a smile once brutalized.
Scars still apparent;
mouths corners upturned.

Sweet sadness rushes forth,
something old and beautiful,
trite yet illuminating.

Led by nothing but sensation,
rationality takes a breath
as both feet hit water,
expectations abandoned.

Old fears loom.
Memories of a fragile past…
broken.

Hope
slowly
creeps in,

as do tears.

A bond of blood
broken only
by incision.

Shards of the past.

Bleak futures rest
on weary shoulders.

Hope
swells
forth,

this faltering heart on overload.

Balancing extremes
of then and now.
Fighting for a foothold,
how to capture light?

Technique is a fleeting illusion
cast by rapacious demons
seeking immortality.

Freedom basks sunrays in the summertime,
and hibernates for winter.

Archie Underwood
9/24/2007