My spirit speaks in poems my mind and soul understand not.
My spirit, the very essence of energy that is me
Never to be extinguished, that spark of life that is my spirit.
Eternal ember, programmed to glow into eternity.
My spirit urges me to spill out on paper; a record
Words that have wings and fleeting feet.
Unbound by this world's ties and snares...
Unfelt by others
Unexpressed by me
Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon
Like a new-born babe
Like a stream gurgling over the stones beneath it
Issuing forth into the world.
My spirit is unfettered,
Uncluttered,
Complex, yet simple,
Normal, yet bizarre.
The winged words whirl up and up to my maker.
Each syllable crystal clear
Pealing, ringing,
Rolling, rumbling,
Thundering, clashing.
Received by the very ears of God.
Each plea, each sigh each groan is understood
My spirit is free to soar like a bird
To dip, slip, slide and swoop.
Unhindered, unencumbered, unimpeded.
My mind is not so
My mind is heavy with burdened blackness billowing
Weighed down with this time, this feeble flesh
My mind is enclosed, imprisoned and restrained.
Unable to fly to the heights
Burdened with this knowledge which cannot be dismissed
Fettered with chains and bonds
Trapped inside a malfunctioning body
With no windows, no doors, no escape.
Each attempted movement is a reminder,
Each forgotten word or name.
Each morning my mind awakes from the release of sleep to realisation.
It feels pain, both physical and emotional
It feels the fires of anger and guilt
It feels the anguish of unrealised dreams
Unfulfilled expectations
Of pregnant hopes aborted,
Of un-ascended hills and un-swum depths
Of unspoken words and unsung melodies.
I exist, but with such awful anguish
I breathe with belabouring malignancy
I proceed, with persistent perseverance
My mind is sinking in this quicksand.
Querulous quagmire
Bottomless pit of despondence
Desolate, deserted wilderness
The valley of the shadow of death
My God, my God; why hast Thou forsaken me?

"Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the world"