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Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #2240485
A story poem.
December Contest Challenge - I almost forgot....
A Story-Poem Contest!!!

A story in a poem. My mind swirls like a blizzard.
Blank. White. Lost. Unfocused.
Can I find my way into the maze of imagination
and come out the other side
with a prize?
Breathe. Just breathe. I tell myself.
Nothing will come if I stay tense and closed in.
I let the movement of in and out lull me
Pull me into a different place,
A deeper place:
One where my imagination can soar --
unbound to worry or anxiety or anything else that wants to crush my spirit.
I feel the world slip away...
And I float, up, up, up,
beyond the reach of the doubters;
beyond the reach of the haters;
beyond the darkness that holds the world in its grip.
Here. I am free, I am open. I am truly myself.
There is no deadline here.
No accusing boss whose eyes bore into me like grubs
threatening to eat me alive as they nibble at the precious roots of my soul.
Here, I meet my muse and we walk untethered to reality.
She does not come if I am weighted down by the world;
Pressed into confinement, panicking and scrounging for scraps and bits.
She will stay hidden until I release and just exist.
Then she comes, her smile radiant, but also mysterious.
She will not give away her secrets too soon.
She wants to play, to talk, to let the moment encompass both of us
and to be with her, I relinquish the hold the world has on me.
We amble over the meadow, watch the butterflies fly;
their glittering wings mesmerizing.
Darkness falls, dipping behind a sunset of pure joy.
Lightening bugs flicker and spark across the velvet night.
Such peace.
Such tranquility.
An idea sparks, then sets off a cascade of fireworks.
I watch spellbound. Taking it all in.
Letting it flow over me like a song playing a melody that only I can hear.
Then, with a sense of peace hovering over me,
I return to the page and paint the images and thoughts in words,
capturing the essence of the experience
so that I can share it with the world.
This is the prize --
and I am humbly grateful for the chance to embrace it,
to feel its heat and its quickening heart.
Such is the way of a writer.

Lines = 48.

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