Bereft. Prepared.

You remember, all too well,
the feeling, the emptiness,
the black places bereft
of color, drained of love,
the aloneness.

It haunts you,
late at night, and on long drives,
when your mind battles your heart,
in a never ending war
where you are the only prisoner.

But today, at least for today,
the mind overcomes the weakened heart,
and strengthens it, sure
that emptiness is opportunity,

That emptiness opens the universe
to itself,
God’s palette, perfectly prepared

ready for the masterpiece
only God himself

can conceive.

About this poem

Sometimes, we have to empty ourselves to find ourselves. To find art. Poetry. Music. Love. Sometimes we have to surrender and trust and allow. It is not our nature. We are prideful, too prone to want to do, when what we need to do is simply allow.

That is a lesson I learned the hard way. But once learned, I do not believe it will ever be forgotten.

Tom

PS: The picture is from the quarry across from my house, taken last December.