Feeding the Muse

He was there in the darkness
Echoes in the silence of his dirge
    singing of a muse
    a harsh mistress
 No longer able to control his actions
    in the plane of the Imaginary
The place where anima and animus
    wage endless war
As though one or the other
    could ever win
And he
    the passive witness
Yearns for closure
    an end to naming

Creativity at its most destructive
Grim resolve
Philosophical spirit
    lost in this age
It lies captured
In this dead man’s hands

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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