Words on a Page

My words they fail

To my mind speak

To clarify that from which

I can find no relief.

My mind is a prison

Its bars my dreams

And my necessities.

For every day that passes

I ask myself why

I cannot overcome this fear

And this fog of confusion.

Every move I make

Every thought or desire

Is butchered right before my eyes.

My works are dry and dead

My words mere whining of an anxious heart.

I hate and love myself

As I hate and love my faults and my sins

Those spears in my sides

My crown of thorns.

I gaze at blank pages

Waiting for the visit

Of a Muse.

I love all things

And hate all things

These I want to show

Yet my passion overcomes me

Constricting my mind

Choking my spirit.

I can see no escape

Can find no respite

From this prison I've made

These chains on my wrists.

The Cross stands before me

The Light shines before it

The Right Hand comforts me

While my own hands strangle me.

I am running in circles

Chasing my cliche tail

Through endless fields

Of mist and night

Across darkened seas

And endless trees

No lighthouse to guide me home

No rescue from this Purgatory

Aside from the hope

The Undying Flame

Within the castle of my soul.

I want only to make

To show truth

To show love

For this world and mankind

For the glory of God.

It seems so impossible

Living in the shadow

Of artists who have gone before me

Whose legacy seems unmatchable

The standard again none can win.

I do not want to win;

To surpass any other -

I just want to sing my voice

In words on a page,

To find who I am

And what I can say

For my life and my God

To those who will listen

In pleasure and spirit

To at last satisfy

That hound at my heels

Driving me ever on

Towards a destiny I cannot foresee

Yet giving me a thirst

To express myself

In the making of art

As words on a page

Can only convey.

I can only gaze on

Into the dark night sky

Hoping for the shores

Of the Blessed Realm.