Have the voices in your head gone silent?

When you were younger, they rarely ceased,

At times, drowning out your own voice.

You thought it was God.

Now, you know better, or at least you think you do.

Who knows? Maybe it WAS God.

She told you stories, sometimes.

Gave you guidance when you were lost

Entertained your lonely hours.

When you stopped listening

She hammered at the doorway of your soul

Until you let her back in.

May have been your Muse. I wonder.

There was more than one.

And in the quiet of the afternoon

When shadows started the slant across the yard,

The voices came awake.

Or, in the early part of sleep,

At the edge of unconsciousness,

The babble formed into words

You were too tired to rise and write.

Now, regretfully, you THINK you should have —

KNOW you should have given them credence.

No, they have not gone. As you grow old

The voices drift through at higher speeds

Making it harder to keep up.

And sleep comes to dull the inner senses.

So, while you are aware, take the time.

Do not ignore the fleeting moments of clarity.

Embrace Her, before she is but a specter,

A phantom caught at the corner of your eye,

Waving silently as she fades.

© 2009, by Diane E. Dockum