Claire, this one's for you. Your poetry thread, I think, was just what I needed to drop this blasted writers' block that's been plaguing me the last few months. Fantasy and Fear seemed to be perfect topic for me. It inspired me enough that I feel that I have to write more, and this one's dedicated to you, my dear.
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Why is it that the best writing is found in the absolute darkest, most frightening moments of our lives as often or more than in the greatest, most glorious ones? Who knows?
'Fear wraps its claws around my face,
Pain radiates throughout.
All I ask is for one to help me through, yet
I find myself alone.
Years pass me by, auditions come and go,
I can't help but doubt--
Not doubt of my ability,
Nor of my strength,
But whether the simplest acts will come to me,
If I can make it through a single half hour.
My one other outlet,
My verse without,
I am lost.
I am alone.
There is nothing I can do, it seems,
But struggle on my own.
Finally, a small beacon of light,
Invisible to the world,
Pierces my gaze.
Something so SIMPLE--
Who would think?
At least I can take some small comfort,
As I continue my struggle;
Perhaps I'm not completely alone...
Everyone has Fantasies and Fears.'
Thank you, Claire.
'He who knows others is learned. He who knows himself is wise.'
'Tomorrow will take us away,
Far from home--
No one will ever know our names,
But the bards' songs will remain.
Tomorrow, all will be known,
And You're not alone,
So don't be afraid
In the dark and cold
'Cause the bards' songs will remain.
They all will remain
In my thoughts and in my dreams
They're always in my mind....
Come close Your eyes;
You can see them, too.'
The Bard's Song: Into the Forest