Poem 1: Stages

in poetry •  7 years ago  (edited)

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I tried to write but I have lost
the gift, my art have I exhaust
in hoping you would lift me off
far from the places I have stood
these days have cost me greatly
lately good has been a statement made
a feeling less have understood
and when I think of all the words
I never could express, at night
my heart of fire doesn't rest
should I not write until it's left
nor tire longer at the steps
of a greater hour, a power strong
and built within, a strength, a love
that's always been, held close
perhaps hidden in dark allure
to your delight, I now begin
in this, a poem I have written
I couldn't ask for more.

~ dajon

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