When the Poetry and Pros Stopped
It took me months to realize why
There was nothing left to transcribe from my inner eye
Had it run dry?
There was simply nothing to write about
Beyond the on hold present
The prayed for future
And the wisdom garnered from the past
Unlike the happenstance of bloodlines
The choices I’d made en route to the here and now
Had led to a kind of twilight zone
Where the subtle changes unfolding round about
Had all but ceased to prepare me
For what was ahead
Was it time to lose another chrysalis
Vacate another mountaintop
To climb yet another?
Or is the one I’m on the last
Before the clouds lift me into a much higher calling
One that doesn’t involve writing?
John Christopher
September 11, 2008
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