[sunrise by NASA]
This is a piece of prose poetry, for Kerry's Wednesday challenge at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads. I gave it a try and these words spilled out all by themselves, revealing a truth I try not to look at too squarely. Yikes! Gotta watch these poems!
Fix your eye on the north star and turn right before morning. The madman walks between daybreak and hellfire and has fallen. Never say to me that I dont know soaring. I do, but I know it from the safety of the ground and the longing in my heart, always captive, tethered like a kite in full sail to the hand of the needy. Never tell me that I dont know love for, alone and solitary, I have learned to love the whole world and I carry that love with me like a prayer, like a weeping elegy, like a song of hope that refuses to be muted.
Come my way and I'll show you a bit of the highway you may never have seen, through the eyes of blindness that have been opened. I'll teach you to listen to wolfsong and witch-howl, and we can join in towards the midnight hour, when the longing is too great to be contained within any longer.
I dont know what I'm writing here, it is writing itself, and it is telling me that though I smile and insist on hope, within there is a sorrow, constantly ebbing and flowing like the tide. A sorrow, under the bright smiles and determined hopefulness, as deep as the ocean, and as wide, that dare not, dare not, shed one tear for fear of drowning.
