A Failed Poetic Attempt
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Is my mind an accident of the metaphysical,
of fragile pain, uncertain life or follies of desires?
Abstractions attract me like flies to honey,
vacillating theories seems to me like a refuge,
trying to grab air where only vacuum exists.
The creativity in me rebels as my mind accuses
my heart of the mediocrity of my serendipitous poems
that often flow from splinted quills of my bureau.
I strive to write a grand mythical masterpiece
but know my heart will never release its pent up lore.
It's really a demise of thought, a flare that never storms,
diverting my soul from random, useful conceptions
to microscopic flaws and nebulous products of imagination
and flounder on more mundane affairs that blight the spirit.
Strive as I wish, I can write no more….for now.
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2021
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