-- Writing in Solitude --

John Herlihy

I never write down any prayers,

Instead, writing for me feels like praying.

Intimacy arose from a virgin spring,

Serenity personal commitment can bring.

Not only is the writer not really alone,

Instead, it feels like being with someone.

An attentive reader and quiet listener,

Waiting patiently for the next word.

Noble thoughts dressed in poetic attire,

Words that sparkle as diamonds, as sapphire.

Lifting the reader far beyond themselves,

Journeying with the poet thru higher realms.

Carefully selected words from the well of the heart,

Carefully selected words that ring clear as a bell.

To be brought into a place where all is known,

Some mystery is revealed, some secret shown.

A magnifying class focused on one particular point,

That combusts the candle of an idea into a flame.

Prisms of light ride the wind to four corners of mind,

Vision, awareness, consciousness, enlightenment.

Writing in solitude, but the voice seeks out the world,

Filled with ideas that need to be born in their plenitude.

The poet writes the poem alone, but intends it to be read,

The nightingale sings its song as if its heart has bled.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Thursday 13 May 2020