2024-01-04

poetry/m/melia.txt

@@ -0,0 +1,49 @@
+Melia
+2020-09-27
+
+***
+
+like the gentle beating of the ocean's waves
+the anhedonia comes once more to play
+like a seed buried deep in the chambers of my heart
+germinating each time the tide floods into the bay
+
+they told me to draw and to write what you know
+so I buried myself far deep down below
+like I'm watching a cat lie on a table of glass
+the boots pound like thunder as on the street above they pass
+
+a wyrm whose tail blossoms into a tree
+a weeping willow overlooking the sea
+like a fisherman, I cast my line of gaze far
+a weary soldier recalling a distant war
+
+a Solstice of solitude, hair fire, face flush
+painting strokes of water on a rock with a brush
+but the lines evaporate, words into air
+as if I'd never uttered them
+as if they'd never been there
+
+"wherever did my Godhead go?" I cry
+frustrated with the fallow fields of my mind
+that bear no fruit, that offer no face
+to save me from appearing to myself a disgrace
+
+for what use is a brush without bristles?
+a plow that cannot? a blog sans epistles?
+a potion of health that just makes one swoon?
+ambition unable to touch even the moon?
+
+the feathers in my hair rustle in the wind
+an impostor, severed from what would be my kin
+had I been born in different place and time
+had never ceased the gentle tinkle of outside wind's chimes
+
+all alone under this tree's shade I sit
+watching the ocean, end of mind's wit
+a budding hermit, the end that I sought
+the burden on my mind is still quite a lot.
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander