Before I am Famous

literature is something we infer after the story is told

Catharsis

Posted on | April 27, 2006 |

Cool spring rain suddenly
Falls hard.
Mmm the sound of rain
Pelting the world around me.
The needy Earth greedily feeds on
The gift from Gaea.

It’s washing the bird crap away,
Sending it down to the ground.
Yet, this cleansing is bypassing me.
My mind is away at my soul,
Bit by crucial it leaving nothing,
An emptiness,
A void.

The more I try the less I am.
Because in this darkness
Even the night lights are too dim.
Where are the candles?
So I can illuminate in a soft glow
Remnants of what is there.

Just need the flint to start the
Spark to light the candle to see
What’s deep inside of me.

Slowly the rain falls to a mere
Trickle, coming to an end.
Ribbons of soft, white fog
Weave through the yard,
My mind.

And I am still waiting for my catharsis.

Still waiting for something more.

Category: poetry corner

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