A Very Epic Morning

 

Saturday morning 6:am

I’m so excited to hear the ringing

of my beloved alarm clock

I jump out of bed

eager to drink my first morning coffee

I shower, and I dress

and as I’m opening the front door to leave

a gasp of dark air takes my breath

and then with horror in my eyes

and a shaking hand holding the keys to the door

I think…where…

where… are you going girl? it's saturday

 

how does one come to know what one’s future holds?

if they do not search for it

 in every empty space waiting to be filled?

 

so I went to my second hand dining table

I sat down on my old wooden chair

and I wrote, and I wrote, and I wrote

all the imagery and all that I hate

all that I love

and all that makes me irate

 

today there is no muse

just I, the paper and the ink…

so I wrote about the Devil

who I believe to be a wimp

how he tricked me into doing many things

things I would never want to do

in my humble opinion this made him rich

 

but then my pen moved slightly to the left  

and I started to believe once more

in the great power of good

 I could hear in my head

the great violin of my own Soul

playing the music of existent dreams

 

finally drowning out his voice and laughter

so now, he’s worthless

and as I pull myself back from the brink of mindless nonsense

my own pride battered like an old decaying cod

waiting to fill the bellies of the starving

It’s now 6:56 am

 

time to once again get a grip on my sanity   

and as I reflect onto the next page

of which I truly hope to write at least a few

 

maybe I'll even write  about an Angel or two?