Haven’t written poetry in some time, but I came up with this a week or two ago and figured I’d share it here.

“Aperture of Clarity”

Once upon an age
Before he’d built his rage
A passion brewed inside
Not so easily denied
Day and night he worked it through
Not always pretty, but always true

After several fruitful years a shift
Not so long, the passion went adrift
The work became a bore
Creativity a chore
The beginning of the end
A muse unable to contend

Days grew short, sullied temper
The season’s mind a gentle whisper
Reflection’s truth could not ignore
He’d sold away his heart a whore
Buried deep to press on each day
Convinced it was the only way

The path forward yet unclear
In moments felt so very near
Within drink or nature’s breath there stood
A clarity from which to brood
Deepest questions torn asunder
As if waking from a slumber

Shackled, strained, the muscle flexes
A dangled carrot, sharpened senses

Originally penned 12/23/2014