Devoured
I don't know how to abandon
This maniacal world
Where electric words stalk my nights,
Devouring my mind.
Volcanic images appear
As uninvited guests,
Wrestling atrophied concepts
Into structured rhythm.
Metaphors tease unrelenting
As sounds tickle my heart,
Disowning my need for respite
From red saturation.
Yet I feast upon each moment
Of inspired reverie,
Count each hour of sanity
An insulated gift.
I fall into meek thanksgiving
For voice of expression
Even as I hear the approach
Of mystified ideas.
For what would I be without art
Conveyed in written form
But an aching, unfulfilled soul;
Derelict and deprived?
Copyright © Pamela Davison | Year Posted 2005
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