Tags
anguish, dreams, God, heart, insomnia, life, lost love, memory, mountains, nature, past, poem, poetry, Serenity, sleep, soul, writing
How do I explain my inability to express the feelings of bards?
My heart wells and wails
with futile anguish
My soul screams
my hands and head refuse to cooperate
Tis late
much past the witching hour
when only the lost and tortured are awake
I dream living dreams and escape to lost love
I find serenity in my Montana mountains
I allow myself to talk to God and wonder about his creation
I wander the empty halls of my past
until gentle, sometimes troubled sleep takes me to another day
