Out

I.

Buried in me, a well springs up,

Giving life to fresh ideas,

New perspectives are gleaned.

II.

Here lies that well within,

Cold, biting, unrelenting,

Injecting life into words.

III.

It is here in this place,

Where I store my inspiration,

The muse’s hiding place.

IV.

Transforming into an abyss,

Tightly sealed, difficult to access,

Closing itself off to me

V.

Attempts to break into the crypt,

Laughable and fruitless,

A fool’s errand.

VI.

Though it lives within me,

I have lost access,

Now an interloper in my own mind.

VII.

To gain entry perhaps the step,

First to escape myself,

And the bonds of my limited consciousness.

VIII.

Stepping outside myself,

No longer constrained,

By my own oppressive shackles.

IX.

Out of body,

Out of mind,

Free from all constraints.

X.

For I have determined that,

The only way to get in,

Is that I must first get out.

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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 26, 2014, in Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 13 Comments.

  1. In the Stillness of Willow Hill

    …..or……the only way out is in……..

  2. You were already in..and when you got out ..do you think you can return ?

    • That is a great question! I suppose the point of the piece is not to think outside the box but to get outside of myself and then think or write. To put it another way…in order to write the way I prefer to write occasionally, I need to go out o my mind – in a manner of speaking. To this point, I’ve been successful in returning. I hope that makes sense. 🙂

  3. That must be what makes me feel so crazy sometimes…leaving pieces of me scattered around.

  4. I like your spare style words pared and made to work, no padding whatsoever.
    Thank You for following my blog and i’m happy to have found yours.
    My best to you, John, from Singapore

    john

  5. I love the metaphor.. beautiful

  6. i love your writing, it always makes me to think and introspect

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