Right now
it is difficult to write for more reasons than the book. One of my very dear friends is going through
what I did with my first husband.
Another young person I know is facing so many hardships right now, and I
cannot do anything but stand by and be there if they need me.
In both
situations I feel empathy, but useless.
I am a doer and a fixer...I can do none of this...so, I wait until I
can.
The Silent Muse
Silence
surrounds the muse
like the murky veil
on a smoke-stained rose
that enfolds a city’s dawn
as the elegant words
of pomp and circumstance
are as voiceless
as the cry of a city’s neon lights.
In agony, he
craves respite
from the tyranny of a need
that makes him a wanton, helpless pawn
that lures him tauntingly
like a siren lures a ship
toward the hidden craggy rocks
on cold, rainy, foggy, nights.
Thus, taunts
this siren
tricking the mind
with ghostly strains
of lilting rhyme
to entice the muse,
causing the need to be stirred
when the mind’s curtain is drawn
to suffer silent, voiceless nights.
©
Sylvia L. Ramsey 2005
Clairfication Required: I said my mind was in a foggy whirl. After I posted, I returned to read what I had writtern. The one sentence makes little sense. "This book and the others are of more importance to others than to me." What I meant is that all the work I put in to this quest as well as the success is of more importance to others. If I can help one person, or even many, then all the time, effort and money is worth it."
ReplyDeleteSylvia, I am sure you are helping more people than you even realize. I wish you well looking through the proof and am happy to see your work is coming along well. Stay strong my friend.
ReplyDeleteChristy