Post by Karla Bardanza on Feb 19, 2010 8:40:08 GMT -5
My exhausted and passionless creativity lies on a great immovable bed as life courses through my veins, intoxicating me with old dreams of expression and devotion. However it seems to me my inspiration vanished silently into an impenetrable universe as it faces an unspeakable conflict. Sometimes I see it with a tremor of anguish, hesitant, looking for words but I can’t listen to it whispering me poems because my turbulent heart is taking me away in its untender arms to another delirious day. There is an abyss between my creativity and me. I have been studying it in my long misery, trying to fish some words of passion within but I have been wilting together with my flowers. My source runs dry as I sit here trying to bewitch some metaphors. All I can feel is that my force of reflective powers are weak and this new truth was discovered with helpless terror. Immersed in a hoarse darkness, my lovely inspiration lies while an inexplicable void swallows my mind every single day mercilessly.
Karla this is a beautiful piece of prose which speaks of such sorrow ... if this is your way of saying your inspiration is running dry then gosh .. my dear you are so much more talented than you give yourself credit for ... I love the metaphor, the way you speak of feelling so wretched yet still your talented quill shines here. Simpley poetry at its best. Kerry xxxx