Muse of Light
Dare shame the lovely muse’s hand,
I stand lost on dusty foreign roads.
Weaken and salvaged rendered soul,
prickly needles and concrete thought loads.
In the buzzing silent night, I hear thoughts,
the only sort of music with my care-weary ear.
I am drawn in devoid meaning.
Crippled like a small child in weaning.
Magnified in my painful faults
Mind games and word plays assaults,
I dwell in the bleakest hours.
Repelled from your light power in this silent hour.
Listening to the buzzing silence,
please save me and soothe this silent pain.
Copyright © Peggy Bertrand | Year Posted 2007
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