ONE OF A KIND

In the corridors of a muddled mind, Within the condensation of a thick fog, I often find, A relapsed presence, a menopause In life, an uncertainty Of kind, Where good and evil dined. Poetry is the release for such a mind For it abides, Inside the realms of the unknown, Hands you a key to reach, Un-reckoned heights, Ventures into twilight, The beginning or end almost tangible, The journey, virgin as a bride. Ideas cascade vigilantly fast, And sometimes in stone are cast, You think your mind Is playing tricks, You hope the misty clouds above, Will recommend, And bring to an end, This troubled mind, One of a kind, The likes of which, no one will ever find. A sudden darkness creeps ever close, A demon like, vile haunting chill, Steadfast in your spirit, soul And mind, It will not influence your will. Let good and evil collide, For you have finally Chosen your side. The unwanted solitude that was once Yours, arresting the normal start, if Theirs such a thing, of every day You have sent to its dreary grave, The winning post was always Within your sight, But you took time to Understand your blight, For blinded by the terror of being Lost in the corridors of a muddled mind, Your rightful route you Could not find, Bravely, you did not waver and have Proved, you are, one of a kind.