how many poets have written
of their shattered dreams
their battered hearts
their sad and painful
memories?
all of them, I think,
the ones who feel,
have shared this death,
this descent into shadow
it's not a happy sandboy's dream
it's not a day of sun and gentle breezes
it is a dark night of loathsome dreams
and songs of despair
sung to a guitar tuned lower than the mind can sink
yet, waking to a promise of deliverance
the soul repents its lack of faith
retrieves its face
from the mirror of her soul
and sits quietly
remembering love
and all of the reasons
it should not have been
not every mind recovers
from its fantasies
but most are stronger when they do
no longer dreaming of your loveliness
your lovelessness
the poet sings a song of contentment
you are gone
and he
alone
and stronger than before
re-tunes his guitar
re-tunes his heart
