Cleanse Me

I.

The living of this existence, its fight, its struggle,

Has left me dirty and covered with the filth of the world.

No water, no lather can remove the grime.

It is all far beneath my skin to my core, my soul.

II.

To rid myself of these foul stains that mark me,

I must defer to those purest, nourishing of things.

Replace stains with beauty, the muck with resplendence.

Supplant the filth with artistic, natural and ethereal pabulum.

III.

For my eyes, provide the sunrise and sunset,

The hues of which mix rich tones of gold and blue,

A million shades chime in to inspire the mind,

To the point that the sunset may be felt and heard.

IV.

Viewing the day at its lovely, pristine beginning,

Light at first peering and teasing over the horizon.

A symphony of color orchestrated masterfully,

Until the bright, white light of day shines over all.

V.

The occasion to view the lying down of the sun,

A dance of color just before that somberness of night.

Those final rays of light stabbing across the sky,

Until that concluding glow that comes just before dark.

VI.

The pain and the daily struggles require the breeze,

Its kissing of my skin, its gentle and loving caress.

All about me it pirouettes, surrounding me,

Exciting the nerves of my skin eradicating the pain.

VII.

For just a moment, the wind whisks around me,

Titillating as it visits with me so briefly.

Whispering to me as if I hear it say “come away,”

Let me take you up and off this earthly rock.

VIII.

Only for a moment, does this dance occur,

Visiting only for a passing glance upon me.

Its soft touch arrives and goes just as quickly,

Its origins and its destination a mystery unto me.

IX.

Remedy my soul with the confection of melody,

For it is with song that my spirit unites.

A note, a chord, a chorus, a harmony,

This is required to reach the deepest part of me.

X.

Soaring voices, rising into the unknown,

Lilting a refrain new and so wonderful.

Purity that can sublimate the inner man,

Can be found when the voice hits the mark.

XI.

Music can find its place deep within my being,

Rhythms ignite a fire, as ballads quench the thirst.

It is within the labyrinth of music I find myself,

And the means with which to lift and cure my soul.

XII.

Scars which life has left behind may remain,

As I am a work in progress and must display them.

They speak of where I’ve been, what I’ve done,

And are now simply a part of who I am.

XIII.

But allow me my time to bathe, to scrub away,

The stains that appear each day in this life.

Allow me to regenerate and to renew,

As I cleanse in all the beauty surrounding me.

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About John White

I've written off and on my entire life. It took years for me to finally take putting words together seriously. Now it's not, nor does it ever feel, like work. Writing daily has become habitual. No day is complete without words having appeared on the page.

Posted on August 12, 2014, in Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.

  1. Must not die to live again..just experience death will do the trick

  2. loveLoveLOVE second time around

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