Following Shadows



It’s the daylight hours I mistrust
the dreaded sunrise
the lighted world does not seem real to me
and voices echo too loud
flashing too bright
their manic energies bombarding me like hunting falcons
 I pull the talons from me and write desperately
who I am over and over on the page
a reminder a prayer
for I know that I lose a little of myself each night
seeking clarity
 quiet and dimness of the shade
my shadows blend themselves in my dreams and though I struggle and clutch
they dissipate 
they slide through times lock and I dwindle
my dreams bleed through into the twilight lands and I…
I am weakening
 for the bright world holds no wonder
I should fight
I should love the light
but I am more comforted by the shadows
they hold me
 and they whisper,

About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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