Misplaced Muse
At the risk of sounding repetitive, here's the blurb I wrote about this one from FA:
"2:30 in the morning is such a magical time, isn't it?
Half-asleep, this came out.
Still not sure if I should keep going, seems a bit unfinished or off to me somehow.
To any who look at it, what do you think?"
It started out when I was in a vent-y mood, then turned into something else.
Constructive criticism would be very much welcome :3
Edit: Why does it look like a paragraph when I put it in nice looking stanzas .____. attempts to fix
Edit2: Yay it's fixed now! Still have no idea why it did that in the first place but it's fixed now!
Lucid dreaming of a world gone by,
Wishes made on the tails of stars,
Only to reinforce steely bars.
Screaming, arms raised to the sky.
Blink, and you miss the wonder,
One night so torn asunder.
Dreams forgotten, stories left untold,
It burns the heart to see a soul so sink,
Like a drowning man bending down to take a drink.
Imagination, oh who is left for us to behold?
Oh splendid muse, take us once again,
Into that most blessed den
Where minds are free and souls unbound,
Left to wander to their hearts' content.
And yet the patrons are left so spent,
Their gifts and hopes dashed to the ground.
Where are our Heroes, our Sojourners?
Have they yet been usurped by crowds of mourners?
Return to us, those ancient glories
Those tales of the honorable, the just
Tales of the Good, who help because they must.
Remember, oh remember, those artful stories.
Tell us not these horrid tales,
Of evil men most stale.
Hearken back to the golden days,
Recall that misplaced muse,
Who lead us to such beautiful truths
As the ocean shining with the sun's rays.
Remove from us this great vexation,
Undo our self-devastation.
Renew our curiosity in all things bizarre,
Bring us back to the days of Hither and Yore.
Let us look to the future, see what's in store
For our fledgling race, let us strike out far.
Hail the coming of the dawning age,
Herald the re-opening of the galactic stage.
Throw away this short-sightedness,
This petty bickering of what should be.
If we cannot leave our cradle, then who are we?
Children, blighted with a most horrid sickness.
If light and life are truly rare,
Should it not be our duty to put them out there?
Returned to us, this sense of wonder,
Resurrected, the stuff of dreams,
Imaginations bursting at the seams.
Pray we avoid that final blunder.
Pray we do not lose our love of creation,
That life does not cease our elation.
Music, life, creation's light,
Dreams, hopes, tales most daring,
May we never cease in our sharing
Of that which gives us true sight.