The Thought- Fox

Day has gone, darkness closes in,
it clouds my mind with a vision of nothing.
I squint to see the the unseeable
beg to know the unknowable but the
gates of my heart remain locked tight.
I search for that one truth to put down
on this page that stares back at me
wondering why it is blank and will it’s fate
be that of others, crumpled, in the dust bin.

Sleep overtakes me, I’m restless, agonized
by my failure of creativity. Thru the fog of self
pity I hear a sound unlike any other.
It seems unworldly, like from an angel
who has been wounded in the fall.
I’m drawn to it like the Sirens song and
the doomed ships of yore. Music without words
yet it’s message is clear. Its flow varies
but its rhythm is the same. Its rhythm
matches the beats of my heart and its
flow reflects the reality of life with
all it’s high and low points.

It’s suddenly clear that inspiration is
part of that flow, just waiting for the
poet to grab on and explore.
There is no inspiration outside
of the life continuum. When stuck
in the ether, we must return to life
to be inspired.

Ted Hughes, “The Thought-Fox”