Meld of Muses
My mind is a house with a thousand rooms
That burst at the seams with recollections
In vain I have tried with a thousand brooms
To sweep the excess of stacked projections.
So often I sift through each fading page
Intending to shred what lacks importance
But failures greet me, all my plans upstage
Submit to the waves, without resistance.
Condemned to a life stranded in the past
Of strength I am drained, dearth of endeavour
Decisive my choice, now the die is cast
Fast chained to regret that lasts forever.
How long could I cope in terms conceptual?
A second in time could be perpetual.
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The Meld of Muses Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
13th February, 2020
Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2020
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