As writers, are we all but seducers of the minds of others

We silently kiss in friendship

As they read one of our poetic gifts?


(À lone voice whispers)


Do we as writers create emotional bridges

That needs to be crossed
Like visionaries like Robert Frost

For the readers to follow our trail of black fonts into the darkness

We sometimes visit, when developing new projects

About inspirational strengths or themes of spiritual weakness

Some may feel compelled to call us charlatans

New reborn Kings and Queens of somewhere totally cosmopolitan

Seducers of fragile minds
And hold us upright

As just sinners and bringers of emotional tragedies

Using poetry as liquid oxygen

But at the core

Our message can also simply be this

Do more

Live for any form of happiness and find and treasure a loving muse

Paint touching visceral pictures through stories

Using music or poetry as your lyre
And put them to good use

Never lament old age as it tries to freeze your youthful body

Once so beautiful and lithe

So in ending

In long days
When your weary heart seems heavy, and you lose hope and feel all emotions

Linked to love or compassion has suddenly died

Look towards tomorrow's new eyes and be lifted up in Dawn’s rose-flushed arms

And find a way to
Others and yourself to
Forgive

Even if you've cried

Then stand back and look into life’s deep mirrors and always remember

You have so much more
To still give

And embrace this thought denied to so many

Some slowly
Some suddenly

As you read this

You still have one of life's greatest gifts

Be proud
Because so much good can still happen

Because you still live

(C)
Copyright John Duffy