Inspiration doesn't like to be chased,
It likes to come at its own pace.
You'd run and run hoping the tunnel would end,
Too bad the light and dark can not be friends.
Oh but they can!
When you close your eyes,
That strike of thought that lights up your mind.
The ghosted words tripping in your darkness,
Till they fall and incorporate some light in the abyss,
... they can be friends.
Just like the positive and the negative attract,
They agree to disagree, they've made a pact,
They run parallel just in different tracks.
And sometimes both become allies,
In concentric circles meant to hypnotize.
But one will never be the other till the end of days,
Try to mix black and white you'll only get grey.
The world would wilt and all the rivers would dry,
One can't live if they other has died.
Though their intentions are oceans apart,
They tend to follow each other in that regard.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
Inspiration doesn't like to be chased,
It likes to come at its own pace.
You'd run and run hoping the tunnel would end,
Too bad the light and dark can not be friends.
Oh but they can!
When you close your eyes,
That strike of thought that lights up your mind.
The ghosted words tripping in your darkness,
Till they fall and incorporate some light in the abyss,
... they can be friends.
Just like the positive and the negative attract,
They agree to disagree, they've made a pact,
They run parallel just in different tracks.
And sometimes both become allies,
In concentric circles meant to hypnotize.
But one will never be the other till the end of days,
Try to mix black and white you'll only get grey.
The world would wilt and all the rivers would dry,
One can't live if they other has died.
Though their intentions are oceans apart,
They tend to follow each other in that regard.
Request permission to use this poem