Inspiration grips my soul
And gives my mind no peace;
I try and try to let it go,
But silence baffles me.
Sometimes in the darkest night
It's dreams that haunt my eyes
And sometimes, inspiration's height
Looks about agony's size.
Ideas sometimes look like pain
And memories that hurt me;
And beautiful though my song may be,
Perhaps its roots concern me.
But art, it lies within the choice
To make a lie show truth
And find the love inside the voice
Of your heartrending youth.
Don't build your statues with ashes:
Compress them into stone,
And watch as sorrow clashes
With love that builds a home.
Darkness is no shelter,
But is an invitation
For light to burn the better
As fire: my inspiration.
Pliny the Elder said: "The depth of darkness to which you can descend and still live is an exact measure of the height to which you can aspire to reach."