The Curtain
As the curtain of darkness is drawn tight
and the incense smoke hangs still,
muse settles in
and I become its channel it’s quick to remind me
in its soft murmurs
that possibilities and hope
are still within the reach of my mind muse, my sweet amnesia,
makes me forget my wounds,
my worries and
the prickly ache of time passed once refocused in the moment
it’s easy to see my scars
make me who I am
but do not define me worries are only time wasted,
my muse is otherworldly
and Heaven sent,
it leaves me lifted, with the warmth of it
wrapped around me
I can brush the
the frigid throes of this world
from my shoulders again I can walk
with head raised,
proud of each facet of my soul,
happy in every cell of my being,
filled with the anticipation
of what might be. ~Eric Vance Walton~