Conscious Muse
A beacon of hope
My conscious muse, a beacon of hope, resonates deep within my armor when I am beaten, down, and under. And just as I begin to think I’ve lost my thunder, Providence, you swiftly sweep in, lifting me from this blunder.
You, my muse, light the path ahead when I aimlessly chase fleeting desires that only leave my soul frayed.
When the doom of despair creeps in, and I start growing despondent by the minute, you unveil the beauty buried beneath all that rubble.
A praiseworthy song, indeed — for an endured struggle pours out of my broken heart; I then proceed to reattach those shattered pieces that wandered off in the unknown, yet again, ultimately enabling me to repaint my newfound canvas. A masterpiece, indeed it is.
I find myself seeking quick thrills to soothe the pain I feel deep inside this empty void. The transient yet fleeting moments of solace remind me that there is a righteous way to go about it and a noble way to embody such resounding vibrance, especially when I am attuned to the ever-present harmony shining forth on my radiant face.
The quick pursuits of pleasure leave me each time yearning for more. I unwittingly ignore your heralding call to embrace my present reality by any means necessary.
