Poetry: Cycles

Standard

There comes a time when the effortlessness

Starts to dissipate and the energy

That gave reason to the impossible

Begins to fade, placing twist and nuance

Oh so slightly past the desperate grasp

For magic. Then comes a harsh period

Of denial filled with weak words and song

Until you surrender to the limits

Of the life force. Letting go, you enter

A tight space where the mere thought of recharge

Fills you with disgust and firm reluctance

To throw yourself against the plexiglass

Of indifference. This death is fragile:

New shoots will break its grip, revealing spring.

 ©2012 Robert Morrow

 

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