To Write, I Will
~A Letter to Poetry~
It used to be the river was my haven
Where the rhyme within my soul had found the key
To unlock all the magic found in beauty.
Like the river,
I was flowing.
I was free.
The trees would sway as if to be enjoying
A moment they could finally feel at ease
While listening to a song within a whisper
In the peace
Of a soothing
Gentle breeze.
A white dove flew the distance of an angel
From one end of my heart to the other
And said to me that peace is found in loving
The fellow man--
The fellow sister
The fellow brother.
An eagle graced the sky with what was freedom
The sun dared not to shine with dreadful gloom,
And I dared not to miss the view of glory
Twinkle sweetly
With such honor
Around the moon.
But what I have to say is that I've drifted
Where it seems the river's beauty cannot flow,
And no longer can I find this precious haven.
It seems I'm lost.
Where I am,
I do not know.
My soul longs to find all that's familiar--
The song that makes the trees sway with ease--
It is true my soul hears the distant whisper
Of a lonely
Somewhat cold
Bitter breeze.
The dove that flew the distance of an angel,
That brought to me sweet, peaceful, loving words
Now feels to be no different from the others...
Just a creature--
A part of nature--
Just a bird.
I do not see the eagle fly with freedom,
And the sun just ushers in another day--
Tearful nights with so many tearful wishes
Made the twinkle's
Precious honor
Fade away.
So here I am without my flowing haven,
So much of it my soul does truly miss
For now it knows of life without a meaning
Without the peace
Without the love
Without the bliss.
But do not think this is the final chapter
For the river waits for me with glory still
And I will search with all I have until I find it,
Then with its peace
And with its love--
To write, I will.
T.S. Wilkins
